Character Building
by blc
Summary: WARNING S4 Ep SPOILERS. What I imagine the Bones characters talk about when they imagine how the show should progress. Humor/parody. Bones is the property of Fox & its producers. "Double Death" now up.
1. Yanks UK and Man in Outhouse

_**With thanks to Idon'tknowwhatthatmeans32 for the inspiration of her parody piece on Hodgela.**_

They sat around the lounge above the platform, a motley group that might not otherwise be assembled all together, shaking their heads and grumbling in shared frustration.

"First, they write Zack off, or turn him into a bit part when they need a quick out of some situation where they can't find another guest star," Jack grumbled, rubbing his hand through his close-shaven beard, "then they break me and Ange up in the single most bullshit breakup conversation that's ever been written. And, I miss my wild curly hair and beard. I look kinda creepy with the short hair."

Angela shook her head, her tousled brunette curls framing her troubled expression. "_'You're the one who's not stopping me?' _ What the hell is that? I mean, we got together after Jack was basically raised from the dead, I'm going to let a little something like Cam hopping in the sack with my admittedly smokin' ex-husband break up the love of my life? I mean, what the hell?! And! And! I'm supposed to be a talented artist, but all I ever do is make out with Jack in the lab and nag Brennan about Booth, which is totally going to backfire one of these days! Why can't I have a gallery show, or spend some good girl time with Brennan? I feel so one dimensional."

"Tell me about it," Booth grumbled. "They've made me look like an idiot the last three episodes. I mean, I'm a Ranger, a decorated Master-Sergeant, for Christ's sakes, I shot people and skulked through back alleys and mountains on far more dangerous missions than driving a car through the streets of London. I mean, any fan fiction writer with half an imagination would have brought up a still from my funeral scene and looked up all my badges and honors on Wikipedia-- I have a bronze star, for Christ's Sake! I can drive a damned mini without having a meltdown."

Brennan shook her head, looking at him warmly from the seat she'd taken next to him. "And talk about continuity problems. In the first episode of the season, I'm telling Dr. Wexler I won't sleep with him, because it would offend you, and then I have that conversation with Inspector Pritchard that seems to finally make a chink in my admittedly thick emotional armor, and then we have that lovely "_Lady Temperance, Sir Seeley_," walk-off scene, but in the very next episode I'm back in the sack with someone besides you? So much for allowing me to grow as an emotional person. Like I would have slept with that welder anyway. He really wasn't that cute."

Angela shook her head. "Tell me about it. It must have been a slow day at the casting pool for one-episode-only hookup character actors."

Cam snorted. "Well, at least I got to sleep with _someone_ this season. Last season was ridiculous. I don't get why they always write me like I'm some kind of homewrecking dominatrix. I'm a medical doctor, an accomplished pathologist, and despite my initial tensions with Doctor Brennan while there was the alpha-female struggle that was only resolved with Seeley's little "_I'm with Bones all the way, Cam_," speech, she and I get along fine now, and our scenes where we work together are actually some of the better-written ones, from a procedural angle."

Brennan nodded. "I concur. And why they continue to write you as someone who's too much of a control freak to let accomplished experts such as Jack and Angela do their own thing, just to create unnecessary tension that detracts from the central premise of the entire show, which is the unresolved sexual tension between myself and Booth, I'll never understand. If I were writing this show, the science would be far more consistent, that's for sure."

Booth reached over and slung his arm around the shoulder of her chair. "Yeah, Bones, you're right. There's not nearly enough real cop or squint stuff lately, it's all too choppily cut, like they had to go back and re-edit episodes after a writer's strike or something."

"Hey, I hadn't noticed that, man, nice catch." Jack responded, his blue eyes twinkling in amusement, and perhaps a slight guy crush. Ange was right, Booth _is_ hot, he thought to himself.

Booth smiled, and tapped the side of his head. "Like I said. They don't give me enough credit-- I mean, if I were as much as an idiot as they're writing me to be, I never would have made Special Agent. The FBI website says I have to have a Master's Degree, by preference, in order to hold that position, but do I ever get to pull out some super erudite knowledge, like poetry, or philosophy, or Russian or Arabic, to help solve a case? Nooooo. It's just "_come on people, this_," and "_let's go, squint squad, that..._"

Brennan patted him on the arm. "I agree with you. You know what else I have a problem with? Why are they always dressing you like an undertaker these days? I mean, yes, every once in a while we get a flash of the socks or the ties, but in the first season you had a much better variety of suits and colored shirts, but now it's all black suits and white shirts, like you just went to the Wal-Mart and bought thirty off the rack. You're a handsome and well-structured man, they shouldn't be dressing you like that."

"They shouldn't be dressing him at all..." murmured Angela to Cam, who smirked in return.

Booth, missing this exchange, gave Brennan a full charm smile, that made every female character (and not a few of the male ones, too) at the table melt. "You noticed that too, eh, Bones? I was noticing how lately they're always putting you in one button suit jackets that close just under your breasts, so it looks like you're about to bust out of it, which is actually uncharacteristic of your character's usual physically modest appearance. And that cut of jacket's not very practical for chasing perps, is it? Really, I've always thought that the funky hippy stuff they dressed you in in the first season was closer to your character's real style. _And_ you haven't gotten to have a really good fistfight or martial arts combat scene in ages. I mean, yes, I'm your knight in FBI standard issue body armor, but they seem to forget that one of your central attractions is your ability to kick ass all on your own."

She smiled back, gazing into his eyes as she said, "Oh, thank you, Booth," and their eyes locked as the rest of the room fell away.

"Well, at least they've still got them making goo-goo eyes at each other," murmured Cam, leaning over to Angela. "What do you guys have to say?" she said, calling down to the end of the table.

"Well," said the deep-voiced, handsome and dignified Dr. Goodman, "I've always thought the writers' failure to wrap up what happened with me, Sid, or Sam Cullen was sloppy. I suppose we all know Sam retired because of his daughter's death, but it seems strange to me that ever after, Booth has essentially become a sole agent, and just magically shows up with case files."

Cullen nodded. "I agree. I mean, he's a good agent, but there are more bureau politics and interesting angles to be explored on his behalf. I mean, how's he supposed to become Director some day, like they write in those fan fictions, if we have no idea what he does when he's away from the lab, or with Dr. Brennan? Plus, I was a good foil and reminder of the tension that partner's aren't supposed to date each other. I have more authority than that new character they've written in."

Sid inclined his head and agreed. "I'm with Dr. Goodman on this one. And look, I know that the actor who played me passed away, but they never even mentioned what happened to me, they just started sending you guys to that nasty greasy spoon."

Jack rolled his eyes. "Tell me about it. Their fries give me worse indigestion than that seven organ soup I insisted you serve to me. I miss you, man."

Booth sighed a deep sigh. "We all miss you, Sid. That diner set is completely generic."

Angela cleared her throat, then. "What I'm worried about is that damned Gravedigger plotline. It's still unresolved. What will happen if they use that as a cheap plot device to get me and Jack back together? That's totally cheesey." Everyone groaned and shook their heads.

"Not looking forward to that," Booth agreed. "My shoulder still hurts from whipping that guy onto the table in my office, though I'll admit I was happy to have a little Deadly Serious Smart and Scary Booth time to balance out all the Stupid, Mooning over Bones Endlessly Booth. Speaking of which, by the way, Bones, what the hell did you write in that note when you and Jack were still underground? I assume it was to me, right?"

She shook her head. "I don't know, I assume I wrote it to you. I assume they'll find some moment in the next season or two when you and I are at an emotional impasse and one of us needs a nudge to act on our feelings for the other, at which point it will fall out of a book in my living room while I'm plating up some takeout for us to eat, or you'll find it in my desk at work, or something like that. If I knew, I might have already acted on my well-hidden feelings for you."

Dr. Sweets popped up out of nowhere, for no apparent reason, and said, "Well-hidden feelings, yeah, right, Dr. Brennan. The way your bosom was heaving in my office last week as Agent Booth gave you that little "_there's someone you're meant to be with for the rest of your life_" speech that's number one on the Bones Channel on YouTube-- your feelings are not well hidden at all. And can someone please explain to me why I can't just make a normal entrance like any other character? It makes me seem like some kind of creepy nerd stalker."

Angela smirked. "You are some kind of creepy nerd stalker." Cam guffawed, and Jack reached over her to high-five Angela.

"Cheries," came Caroline Julian's voice from the end of the table, where she'd been watching this whole discussion play out, "I just wish they'd give me another catchphrase to use besides '_Cherie_' all the time. And a little thanks for the Mistletoe might be nice, too. I mean, if it hadn't been for me, the viewers would have had to suffer through another season without any nod to the Unresolved Sexual Tension."

"Thank you, Caroline, for the mistletoe," chorused Booth and Brennan, whose chairs had managed to edge closer to one another, as they held hands and pretended that there was nothing going on, even to each other.

"I think," came the voice of Max Keenan, as he popped around the head of the stairwell with a bag of Snickerdoodles, "that we should resolve the romantic tension between my Pumpkin and the cop I've personally approved to be her protector by having them both be abducted by the Gravedigger, and while they're in the car telling each other all about their feelings, Russ and I can have a special two-episode arc where we work with the Squint Squad, and maybe even bring back Sully to help, and Russ and I use our criminal connections to find out where they are and who the Gravedigger is."

"I agree," said Sully, coming around the corner, tanned from his sailing trip on the seven seas, and brushing his floppy hair out of his eyes. "I'm sick of getting killed off in fanfictions, or being written to be some unstable, psycho ex-boyfriend. I mean, I'm basically a good guy, or Booth never would have let me date Tempe in the first place, even if he wasn't willing to admit to himself that he was really the man for her, not me. I think if I was brought back for the episode that Max describes, I can provide the final spur that Booth needs to tell Tempe how he feels, and then I can be all noble and valiant helping her felonious, but gold-hearted relatives find them. And then, maybe, Cam could get a long term love interest? Because really, I haven't worked much since I sailed off into the sunset."

Cam looked him up and down appreciatively and smiled. "I'd be down with that, and it would be a nice naughty twist to the show, with you and I dating and Booth and Brennan dating? Kind of like kinky sloppy seconds. And all sorts of room for angsty misunderstandings and comedic twists."

Brennan shook her head. "Sloppy seconds? I don't know what that means."

A set of feet tromped up the stairs. "Sorry I'm late everyone, it took forever to get that prosthetic makeup off of my hands."

"Zack!" called the chorus of characters, as they all jumped up to embrace him, except for Booth and Brennan, whose hands had crept to one anothers' knees, each tracing light circles on the pants legs of the others, as they continued to gaze searchingly at one another. When they'd settled down into their chairs, and Brennan had gotten up to give Zack a soulful, blue-eyed look and a hug, Zack said, "I heard some of what you were saying while I was in the green room. One thing I think might work well for a mid-season break cliffhanger would be if they sent Dr. Brennan off on one of her mysterious trips to war-torn regions, where she's got to be doing something for the CIA or NSA or some other intelligence agency, and Agent Booth goes with her, and then they go missing, and I have to help find them from the safety of my padded room. Max and Russ could even come help break me out just long enough to examine the evidence the government is willing to share with us, before returning me to my prison after the episode is successfully concluded."

Jack rubbed his hands. "Think we can come up with a crazy experiment that needs to be done in order to find the answer? Or maybe... I get to use my high security clearance as a member of this country's aristocracy to access the information that we need to rescue them, and then I could hire a plane and we could all go shoot on location, and not just the two of them in London."

Cam rolled her eyes. "Whatever keeps you and Angela from angsting all over the lab until they get you back together. But I would like to get out of the lab."

Angela looked over at the series' two central characters. "Have you guys heard anything more about this 'Bren kisses Booth's mysterious brother' episode?"

They both shook their heads, as their hands clasped one another's tightly, each circling their thumb on the back of the other's hands. "Nope," answered Booth. "I don't even know if I only have one brother, or if I even talk with my family. They've never really discussed in any detail how the effect of my fathering an illegitimate child affects my relationship with my family, or why I'm really so dark and broody, with serious impulse control issues. I mean, clearly some of it is the dark guilt I bear from my past as a sniper, and the self-esteem issues I have as a result of my shame over my consequent gambling problem, but I don't know how much else of it might be catholic guilt, or some truly horrible family fight that's left me with deep wounds that can only be resolved in the arms of my beloved, wonderful, Bones." He sighed, tears glittering in his soulful eyes.

Brennan pulled the hand she was holding closer to her chest, and patted it. "You're right. And they could write in an arc where you're tempted by your gambling demons under really trying circumstances, and I could help you resolve your problems by resolving our mutual sexual tension in a truly mind-blowing, loving, and intimate sex scene. There is an incredibly well-written fan fiction on that point that I re-read every time I need some inspiration for another sex scene between the protagonists in the books I somehow have time to write. I bet the author would be glad to spec up a script for the writers and sell it to them for a discount, just for the satisfaction of seeing us finally get together."

He gazed deeply into her depthless blue eyes with his meltingly chocolate ones, then said, huskily, "Send me the link, will you?" She nodded, swallowing, her chest heaving gently.

"And another thing!" cried Angela from her side of the table. "We didn't get any good beefcake Booth scenes last season."

Cam nodded. "Nope, no good Boothcake at all."

"Hey!" Booth exclaimed, exasperatedly running his hands through his artfully-mussed hair. "What about the bathtub scene?! I had no clothes at all on above the waist in that scene."

The woman at the table just exchanged glances and smirked, even Brennan.

"What?!" Booth kept mussing his hair.

"Dude, just, a beer hat? Not even_ you_ look hot in a beer hat." Jack smirked, content in the knowledge that there is a cadre of online bugnslime fangirls who love him even though he's only gotten to appear bare-chested once on the show.

Booth shook his head in chagrin. "Tell me about it. I spent how much time getting my goddamned chest waxed so I can show off my well-structured form for the first time in almost a year, and again, they make me look like a moron. I won't be surprised if it doesn't somehow come back to ruin my first attempt to make love to Bones-- she'll probably trip over it and laugh at me at an inappropriate moment, and all my feelings that I'm not worthy of her will come to the surface all over again, even though the universal opinion in fandom seems to be that I am the world's most well-endowed man."

Sweets' head turned in his direction, curiously. "Well, are you?"

"How the hell do I know? All my on-camera sex scenes have me covered with a sheet, or are shot above the waist! Which brings me to another problem!"

Brennan patted his arm, then stroked her hand along his thigh. "Calm down, Booth. If you mean to say that there's no way the writers can satisfyingly resolve our sexual tension in an eight p.m. time slot, I entirely agree with you. I would certainly prefer a move to a ten o'clock time slot if I'm finally going to learn what it means to make love."

He charm smiled back at her, saying softly, as if they were alone on the room, "Temperance, you are my soulmate." Everyone else ignored it, because they knew he would shoot them if they ever said anything.

Her eyes glittering with unshed tears, she sighed softly. "As are you, Booth, and I'd really like to call you by your first name for once, though it hasn't happened yet. You'd think they could write one tender moment where I'm the one comforting you for a change, and our relationship takes a leap forward while I give you a guy hug and call you Seeley."

He gazed back and sighed in response. Everyone else just rolled their eyes.

"They weren't this bad when they wrote me off," observed Dr. Goodman to Sid.

Sid nodded. "Well, it is a show about two complementary characters with deep emotional baggage to resolve with the other's help before they can become a healthy romantic couple. The procedural framework is interesting, but in the end, is just a framing device."

Sweets looked down the table. "That's a ... very shrewd observation," he said quietly, looking insecure.

Sid smiled sympathetically. "Of course. I'm the mysterious and knowing bartender, the psychologist cognate for the first season. I'm the catalyst character for so many of those deep and meaningful moments at the end of the show that end up in all those YouTube fanvids."

Sweets shook his head sadly. "I just wish I was less of a dork. And would it hurt if they let me tell someone like Angela that I have no intention of breaking them up, because I'm a lonely misfit whose belief in true love is only affirmed by his observations of these two patients' interactions?"

"Oh, Cher," said Caroline, reaching across to pat his hand. "There are oodles of fangirls online who would jump all over you in a moment. You just have to be patient. You go look yourself up online after this, you'll feel better, I promise."

Booth grimaced, but sympathetically. "Yeah, Sweets, you hang in there. I mean, I'm the show stud, and I haven't gotten any play since I broke up with Cam a season and a half ago. They'll get you someone, eventually."

"Eventually..." sighed Brennan, resting her head on Booth's shoulder as a deep expression of longing passed over his face as he looked at her.

Just then, a bell rang, and they all looked around, and stood.

"Damn, writer's lunch is over, time to get back to being inconsistently written characters in a well-loved show that is currently leaving many of its viewers dissatisfied with the rough start this fourth season is having," commented Booth.

"Yes, well, see you all at lunchtime tomorrow," finished Brennan, stepping away from the table and shooting a coy glance at her partner until he placed his hand on her back and walked down the stairs with her.

A voice cleared from the back of the lounge, and they all turned around to regard the man as handsome as a god standing there. "Excuse me, but I seem to have missed my plane flight to Fiji again. Could someone give me a ride to the airport?"

Before Cam could answer, someone else did. "I got you, Cherie," called Caroline Julian, shooting a wink to the rest of the table. "Now where did I put my mistletoe?"


	2. The Finger in the Nest

**SPOILERS THE FINGER IN THE NEST S4E04**

"Well, that was a lot better." Cam nodded approvingly at the gang gathered around the upstairs lounge table. Heads nodded all around.

"No kidding. We had some cute Parker fluff, I mean, could that kid _be_ any cuter, we had a big old proud Daddy Booth smile and some reinforcement of Booth's essential goodness and dignity as a father trying to teach his son the important lessons in life..." Angela's voice trailed off as she gazed longingly across the table at Hodgins, not voicing her pleasure at the tender and longing glance she and Hodgins had shared in the episode, but feeling in her heart that if there was meant to be a permanent break up, there would have been more inter-Hodgela angst in the episode. Since there wasn't, she had faith that all might still be well, and she could sort through the confusing emotions still running through her.

Jack looked down into his coffee, not making eye contact with anybody, and said, "I had some serious emotional moments which were satisfying for me and the viewers, because they're worried about me, and I admitted to myself that I feel responsible for what happened with Zack." He reflected that in some ways it was too bad that this graduate student had packed off so fast-- he'd been very intelligent, provided good comic rapport, and lent an air of paternal seriousness to the more dramatic interactions in the show that could sometimes be lacking with nothing but a bunch of under-forty-year olds running around.

Brennan patted his arm, and changed the subject, recognizing in Jack the same weight of the world for others' misconduct that she sometimes felt. She, too, missed Zack, and knew that she most likely wasn't done yet processing his betrayal. But that could wait until later-- for now it was important to note that, "We had a ratings-boosting celebrity guest who actually didn't ruin the entire episode, and I got to play with dogs and show another part of my personality, the soft and sentimental side I'm no longer so afraid to show because of the way Booth is slowly showing me that I shouldn't be afraid to love."

"Yeah," added Sweets. "You two had some really tender, intimate moments this week, whether or not you were surrounded by people, what with Booth agreeing to round up all the dog bettors for you after seeing how upset you were when you found the dog grave, and then how sad and upset he was for you when he told you that they had to put Riley down." He reflected, silently, that he'd also had some really excellent natural light in his office, and thanked the set guys for repainting the walls so that it was a more feng shui place to work in.

Brennan, still clad in one of the boho jacket and skintight jeans outfits with knee high boots she'd been wearing on the show, crossed her almost endlessly-long legs and smiled sweetly, saying, "I know. It was very sweet and caring of you, Booth, to help me dig that grave in this new, vaguely mid-Atlantic outdoor set we seem to have acquired." She wondered, however, if they put her in flats rather than heels this week so that when Booth looked down sensitively at her, or pulled her into a guy hug at the end of the show, her head would nestle conveniently at a point where Booth's lips would easily find hers while she gazed up with longing at him. She also wondered if this was done in part to tease the show's viewers, who would sometimes scream "KISS HER!" or "KISS HIM!" at the screen during most, if not all, of their eye-contact moments. And then do it again when they re-watched the episode on the network streaming video site, maybe several times in a row as they tried to put together their fanfics and fanvids with something approaching accuracy. She wondered if they ceaselessly replayed the tender moments between she and Booth like she did, at night, in the cold darkness of her lonely apartment.

"Well, Bones," Booth replied, catching her hand in his and stroking his thumb on the inside of her wrist, a touch that sent shocks of electricity through both of them, "that compliment in your office about how I have warm and reassuring eyes got to me, and then when you gave that speech about poor Riley over the grave I helped you dig for him, about how he was a good dog and just doing what he'd been told, but had been misused, and didn't deserve the punishment he'd received? Well, I kinda had the feeling you were maybe talking about me, metaphorically, and it made my forehead get all furrowed in that incredibly attractive and sensitive way that I have of communicating to everyone but you that I'm completely in love with you." He reflected that at least he had the consolation of going home and watching the episode again on the network's streaming video site, so he could ceaselessly replay the tender moments he and Bones had shared, before taking to his lonely bed, that didn't carry her scent or her warmth. And then he wondered if he had a laptop with streaming video, because the writers never really showed the inside of his apartment, except for his bed and the bathroom.

Brennan leaned her head back against her seat as Booth pulled her chair over closer to him and started lazily playing with strands of the loosely curled hair she wore around her beautiful face. Booth wondered silently whether the writers had intentionally allowed his Bones' hair to fall softly around her face, her softening hairstyle a silent indicator for her softening worldview, and sighed inwardly with the hope it portended for him finally being able to pour out his feelings for her without fear of rejection. Brennan's melodious low voice spoke then, warming the dark, cold, parts of his soul in a way no other woman's voice could. "I don't know, maybe I was talking about you. These writers have a way of making us talk about other things that are supposedly thinly-veiled metaphors for talking about us, and our relationship, but it _was_ an awfully nice moment for us. I only had one moment where I sarcastically corrected you about something, and you had a number of moments where you got to actually use some law enforcement and legal terminology in an appropriate manner, conveying once again that you are an intelligent, talented cop."

"With a mission," mumbled Hodgins, still staring into his coffee mug, but listening intently to all his friends talk, and reflecting upon the nice way in which he had been allowed to summarize the roles each character played in the show during his little session with Sweets. He also was glad his eyes appeared particularly piercingly blue in this episode. "Also, big ups to the writers for letting Dr. B. again reference vaguely episodes of violence and harsh life lessons she'd learned on her mysterious trips abroad, and the way that it reinforced her air of mystery and driven purpose to improve the world, one dirty corner at a time."

Angela, perking up a little as she realized that Sweets had actually been effective and non-dorky this episode, and might actually have helped Jack a little, smiled slightly and volunteered, "And while Booth still had those boring black suits on, did you catch a load of how tight that shirt he was wearing in the end scene was, as the soft natural light filtered down on he and Bren as they mourned the loss of an innocent life, together? He looked sensitive, and hot."

"Ms. Montenegro," chided Sweets. "You shouldn't discuss Agent Booth's physique when he's having a deep and meaningful moment with Dr. Brennan. But I would note as a point of interest that they seem to have hired a new lighting and photography directors. In prior seasons, the lighting was brighter, whiter, more clinical, but this was the fourth episode in a row where they used both more outdoor shots and a more golden, softer style of lighting for the interior shots." The characters looked up and around them, and realized that indeed, they did seem to be more softly lit. Booth, who had been a photography minor in college, and had actually sold a number of photographs at a gallery in New York, wondered if the softening, brighter light was meant to symbolize that this season would bring some real healing and movement in all the characters' relationships, but first and foremost, some real progress in his long-unspoken feelings for Bones.

"Dr. Brennan, I meant to ask, did you get a new car?" Cam looked across the table curiously.

Brennan nodded, a puzzled look crossing her face. "Apparently I did, some kind of Toyota sport utility vehicle, which is strange, because I usually seem like an environtmentalist liberal, my incongruous penchant for guns aside. I'm surprised they didn't put me in a hybrid, but I guess they can sell all of those and need to move SUVs. I also seemed to notice that Booth has a new big black SUV, apparently a larger model of a Toyota, which doesn't seem to make sense, because it's my understanding that government fleet leasing tends to rely upon American vehicles."

Jack looked up and smiled slightly, an old spark of his usual lovable cranky self coming back into his eyes. "Well, then, perhaps that explains the really obvious placement of the Saturn emblem on the vehicle they had Cesar Milan driving. Saturn is a GM mark, thus, a token nod to American cars. And at least there wasn't another damned Apple i-phone on this episode-- I mean, they had one streaming video two episodes in a row, that really was kind of tacky and obvious." Jack vaguely sniffed a product placement conspiracy, somewhere.

Cam looked around. "I agree, Dr. Hodgins. I did have one thought on that-- I'm worried about fanfiction continuity, a little bit. Do you think we can all agreed that our fanfic authors can continue to refer to Booth's truck as the Tahoe? Because that's what it was in the past, and now they've gone and gotten a new vehicle sponsor for the show. It's not canon, people."

Brennan, who'd been following the conversation while Booth held her hand in his, clasped to his chest, as he bent and placed kisses on each distal phalange, managed to only somewhat swoonily say, "Samuel Taylor Coleridge said something wise about the willing suspension of disbelief when it comes to story-building. I think that so long as our fic authors focus on the essential truths of our story-- stay true to character, mix angst and drama with humor, and honor the undercurrent of love and respect that we all have for one another, then whether they call it a Tahoe or a Toyota won't matter."

Angela, regarding her friend, knew that the swoony expression on Brennan's face meant that a fire was growing in Temperance's soul, so hot that it could never be quenched, but was only stoked higher by Booth's touch, and his looks, and his voice. She had felt something similar, with Jack, but knew from the glow of Bren's milky white skin that Booth's touch illuminated her like no other man's touch had ever before done for any other woman's-- because the two of them were made for each other, in a way that stood the test of time and beyond. Angela also knew that with each touch of Booth's lips to Bren's skin, Bren felt a wash of overwhelming love that made her feel complete for the first time in her life. She also knew by the way Booth kept his eyes closed as he placed kisses on each inch of Temperance's skin that he could reach that he was erasing bad memories with each press of his lips and inhalation of Bren's intoxicating fragrance. Ange somehow felt that Booth felt that if he could just keep Bren safe, then all the trials of the world would be bearable, and that if he could just hold her within the enfolding circle of his arms, he would again have the strength to face the day. And also, that he burned to be within her. But she kept those thoughts to herself, and said merely, "Whatever. Just as long as the fic authors keep writing smut to tide us all over until we can all start getting some action again."

There were universal nods and answering murmurs around the table, and a call of "here, here," from Sweets, who shook his head as he watched his two favorite patients nuzzle one another, lost again in their own world. Maybe next week's episode would bring him a girlfriend. What was it Agent Booth had said? Eventually?


	3. Trlr S 4 E 05

_**Trailer S4 E 05-- With thanks to celtic33 for his proofreading and suggestions!**_

The three of them were lined up at the lab's urinals, talking with their eyes cast straight ahead at the wall, because their friendly sarcasm toward one another was but an overlay for the deep respect each had come to have for the other. Plus, it's just rude to eye another guy's equipment.

"Dude, I didn't want to mention this upstairs," Jack said slowly, "but... um... did you see next week's trailer?"

Booth nodded, grimly, the muscle at the edge of his handsome, chiseled jaw the only sign of the deep inner turmoil he felt as the voiceover narrator implied that Bones was going to hop in the sack with a pretty boy squint. "I did. Of course, we're just characters, we won't really know until they air the episode if it's just titillation, or if they're going to mess up continuity again after the Wexler thing." He sighed, then admitted to the two men who appeared to be his only male friends on the show, that "I'm also concerned that this implication is out of character for Bones. I mean, she's a well-regarded professor, she can't honestly think it would be appropriate to cross that line... especially after what happened with Stires. I mean, Bones is emotionally obtuse, but surely she learned her lesson in that episode, about maintaining purely professional relationships..." He trailed off, regretting all over again his own damned line, and damning his hypocritical thoughts. He could hardly condemn her for her relationship with Stires or this looming new terror when he wanted to blow his own "professional" line out of the water.

Sweets finished his business, zipped up, and headed to the sink. "I certainly hope it's just titillation, it would be cruel to the viewers, not to mention you, to allow things to appear as though Dr. Brennan was willing to engage in some celibacy while she processes Inspector Pritchard's words about climbing Mt. Everest."

Booth smiled in memory. Pritch was hot, and it was flattering for a female character to finally express some real interest in him, but in the end, she just wasn't Bones. But he affected macho bravado, tinged as ever by his alpha-male possesssive feelings for Bones. "Yeah, tallest mountain in the world, and I'll rope it all off as soon as Bones grabs my icepick."

Hodgins guffawed. "Nice, dude."

But then Booth fell serious again, and said, softly, "Really, though, you'd think we could just have a few episodes of hurt/comfort or friendship/implied romance and give my poor, tired heart a break." His soulful deep eyes showed a world of weariness, and Jack and Sweets averted their gazes, wishing their actors could do more with just shifting facial expressions, like Booth's actor could.

The door to one of the stalls opened then, and Max Keenan emerged, shaking his head. "I agree with you, son, and I can't help but blame myself for Temperance's shyness at lasting relationships, and her refusal to interact with all men but you on only an intellectual or mere physical basis. If I hadn't abandoned her, perhaps she'd be more willing to open her bed to you, and not just her heart, which already scares her witless, and causes her to act hot and cold around you."

Booth nodded, appreciating the other alpha-male's understanding, even as he agreed that Max's abandonment of his poor Bones had caused her to terribly disassociate her heart from her brain and her body, so much so sometimes that he despaired of ever helping her put them back together. "Thanks, Max. But in the meantime, I'll just have to be outwardly stoic, while inside, I hide deep, heartrending sobs of loneliness."

Max clapped him on the shoulder as Jack and Sweets continued some discussion over by the sink, then bent in and said, quietly, "Want me to get that grad student out of the way... permanently?"

A dark expression passed over Booth's face as he reflected that there was very little he wouldn't do, in the end, to make Temperance his. "We shouldn't be talking about this, Max. Besides, you left a real mess the last time, and I don't want to have to clean up after you again."

Max backed off, saying only, "Cleaner this time, got it," then nipped out of the bathroom before Booth could say anything. He was an unpredictable guest star, after all. Booth wasn't sure that even he could control Max's actions toward Bones' best interests.

Just then, Sid came in. "Sid!" they all cried.

"Man, what are you doing here? I thought you said your actor died?" Booth shook his head in wonderment, missing Sid's pies all over again.

Sid grimaced. "Nah. A bad IMDB and celebrity gossip site got Heavy D confused with one of his Boyz. The reports of my death are deeply exaggerated, which means I'm really annoyed, because now there's no good reason for having written me off the show."

Sweets, swallowing nervously, recalled the "cognate psychologist" comment the bartender had made, but Sid, always perceptive, smiled at him encouragingly. "Kid, don't worry, I'll settle for an every third episode cameo, or for them to replace the diner with Wong Fu's again."

Jack nodded. "Well, maybe if enough people write and comment on fansites and fanfics that they want you back, the writers will listen. Kind of like Tinkerbell and clapping to let her know that people believe."

Booth sighed, sensitively. "God, I hope so, and while they're at it, they can weigh in on that grad student. He's way too good looking for my comfort level."

Jack clapped him on the shoulder, suppressing his burgeoning man-crush. "Nah, man, the kid's too soft-looking. Kind of like a younger Ryan Seacrest-- and everyone knows he's either gay, or a total patsy. You're her rock, man."

Feeling encouraged by the manly show of support, Booth brightened, then leered, and waggled his eyebrows. "I'm her gun, too." The rest of them laughed, then followed him out of the bathroom, each reflecting in their own, totally platonic, completely respectful, heteronormative way, how good Booth looked in that suit.


	4. The Perfect Pieces in the Purple Pond

The Perfect Pieces in the Purple Pond S4 E 05

The Perfect Pieces in the Purple Pond S4 E 05

The group all ran up the stairs to the lounge from various approaches, reaching the table all at the same time. Eyes wide, breath labored, they looked at each other and all said at the same time, "ZAAACCCCKKKK!!" Wiping tears from their eyes and smiling with joy and relief that Zack would, in fact, continue to play some small part in their little family, and that he was not, in fact, an actual murderer, they shared a group hug and wept all over each other, occasionally sniffling "Zack!" as they all heaved huge sighs of relief. There would be a way to figure it out and get Zack back with them, they just knew it.

Booth rubbed the back of his neck, wiping away a manly tear still clinging to his sculptured, symmetrical cheek, and pondered. "Would someone please explain why the hell Sweets treating Zack? I mean, I'm glad, because it makes the potential resolution of the problem less complicated, but still, from the psychology classes I took in college, it seems as though there would be an unprofessional implication to Sweets' continuing to treat Zack."

Sweets shook his head as he took a seat and reached for the coffee. "I don't know. I'd also assume that it would be a huge conflict of interest, wicked huge. I mean, seriously? I worked with the guy, totally missed that he was the Apprentice, _and_ I disagreed that putting him in the mental hospital was the best course of action. I was all for sticking him in regular prison. What the hell are the writers thinking? I would totally lose my license if I practiced that way in real life. _Totally_. But man, you could have knocked me over with a feather when he told me he didn't actually stab that dude. I need to find a way to convince him that he can tell the truth. Agent Booth and I need to figure out a way to prevent him from being charged as an accessory."

Jack sat down at the table, amazed at the way the episode had turned. He'd had such a bittersweet moment with Zack, still visiting his friend, and managing not to cry at Zack's "_King of the Loony Bin_," remark, and now he could let go of some of his burden of guilt at not keeping his friend from being an actual murderer. He still had a ways to go, but seeing Zack, and sitting across the table from him at the diner, and stifling his own urge to snap at Dr. Saroyan again had made him realize that there might be room for improvement in his life, and soon. Now, if he could just grow out that awful Nazi haircuthe seemed to have gotten since last week.

Brennan patted Booth's hand before pulling out a chair to sit at the table. "In addition to being a wonderful, loving friend to the entire team by not arresting Zack and merely delivering him back to the prison after making him promise not to escape again without calling you or I first, you were very protective of my feelings this week, first with the unnamed person who was snippy with me at the purple pond, and then with Dr. Sweets when he was mocking me for being so literal. I wonder what happened after we had dinner last week? We certainly seem to have elevated our level of interpersonal comfort, and you were actually comfortable making a sexual innuendo to me this week when I queried you about masturbatory aids."

Booth sat, turning his chair toward hers, and started massaging her forearms, in thanks for the way she'd adjusted his messed-up back. "You know what else I like? I got to display that I've picked up all sorts of squinty knowledge over the four years we've worked together, from knowing that you'd really want to drain the whole pool and bring everything back to the Jeffersonian, and in knowing that flies are attracted to manure and blood when you pointed out the flies on that shovel. _AND_, Bones, _AND_, you said I was correct about draining the pool. I mean, you've admitted I was right on the air what, twice?"

She smiled softly at him, her luminescent skin shining and her deep blue eyes twinkling, as she remembered all over again the way he quoted her reviews at her in order to stop her from throwing out the manuscript of her most recent novel. Her eyes softened again as she recalled the way he nearly yelled "Don't call my partner a chick. What's the matter with you?" at that skeevy sci-fi publisher. An unquenchable heat grew in the core of her being at the way he told her she was a sexy scientist, and as she reflected on exactly how much she thought he was a sexy FBI agent. But it was too soon to discuss these overwhelming feelings-- she still had much to learn about love. Instead, she said, "That's right Booth, and really, I'm so glad that the writers let you display your smart, analytical side this week. And also the way you got to talk correctly about what '_in plain sight_' means for warrant-based searches." She also reflected that she was glad that the makeup artist had toned down how much makeup they put on her actor, because really, she had fair skin to begin with, and her natural beauty was such that it was actually possible to mar it with too much makeup. But this week, she had looked lovely.

Booth nodded, and looked into her eyes as he said softly, "_And_ you got to grab that bad Cheech and Chong impersonator's face and scare the crap out of him when you noticed his crooked tooth. Very kick ass, Bones. Very Hot Scientist."

Angela muttered to Cam, "There they go again. Well, iat least t distracts from the pained expression I wore when Sweets stood up for himself and confronted me with my own stupidity in breaking up with Jack. It's going to take some time to get used to the fact that the writers are finally letting Sweets display some professional competence and more self-assurance around the group, and that I'll have to face up to the fact that I have emotional maturity issues underlying my apparent fear of commitment."

Sweets nodded, a half-smile on his face. "Yeah, I got to interrogate a suspect, and dissect the consciousness of an OCD patient and figure out a murder, even if I did geek out a bit about those action figures. Although, I was a little annoyed at the random way I popped up in the Bone Room like that when Zack was explaining how the murder happened. What am I, Sweets-in-the-Box?"

Brennan snorted hot coffee all the way across the table, choking on the hot liquid as Booth pounded her back. The rest of the table looked on, amazed that Brennan had gotten the joke. But she had also gotten the "coffee mecca" crack in the episode, so anything was possible.

Cam handed Brennan some napkins, then commented "I'm glad that this week I backed off a bit on Dr. Hodgins, and that we both came to a bit of an emotional understanding about how to handle Zack's absence from the lab. Although there was something I don't quite understand, and that I've only recently noticed. Why is it that Angela and I are so often wearing either sleeveless or very short-sleeved tops in the lab?"

Angela nodded. "That's right! Last week I had that purple thing on, and this week it was some weird layered assemblage of tank tops. You'd think we'd get cold in a lab that is probably well air-conditioned in order to prevent further deterioration of remains."

Dr. Sweets shook his head. "It's most likely attributable to the writers' need to pander to the males in the viewing audience who both view you as desireable sexual objects. Since neither of you are in sexual relationships at this time, that fantasy aspect of your characters is removed, hence, the sleeveless shirts in compensation."

"That's very astute, Dr. Sweets," came Zack's voice as he mounted the platform. "ZAAAACCKKK!!" cried everyone, even Booth, as they all got up to mob him and hug him.

When they all had calmed down and taken their seats again, Angela said, "I did feel bad about this week's grad student. He seemed smart, he was cute, and my interactions with him gave me more lines in the show than I seem to have had lately."

"Yeah," added Booth, "he was okay in the end. But still... if I find whoever edited and voice recorded last week's trailer to make it seem like Bones would ever do something so inappropriate, I will shoot them."

"I would too," soothed Brennan, turning her seat toward him to smile her enchanting light smile. "I can't believe they would hint that I would hop in the sack with someone like that, after the lessons I learned after Michael Stires. Plus, we had such lovely chemistry during this and the last episode-- you let me drive, I didn't bristle when you teased me about my over precise corrections of your language, and you were no longer too embarrassed to make a sexual innuendo so blatant even I got it."

He charm smiled, his hand coming over the back of her chair. "Yeah, I got to use the laptop in the car for once, so take that, season three writer who called me a luddite, and, Bones, and, did you see the way we made the same face when we were looking at the photo of the murder victim's girlfiend together, and cocked our heads the same way, Bones? We are so totally symbiotic." Brennan smiled back at him, then leant her head back against Booth's arm on the back of her chair, a dreamy expression on her face as she gently pushed the chair back and forth, but not enough to dislodge Booth's arm from where it was in contact with her scalp. The warmth of his body and his smile seeped into her soul, slowly but certainly healing her old fears of abandonment.

Angela looked directly at Jack, realizing she had bridges to repair. "Hey, Hodgins. Did you notice that new weird focus thing the cameraman's doing with Booth and Brennan in some of the interrogation shots?"

Jack's heart thumped, hard, with hope, but he merely cleared his throat and said, "Yes, Angela, I did, if you mean the thing where they're sitting or standing one behind the other and then the camera focusses first on one, then the other, leaving the unfocussed partner slightly blurry?"

She nodded. "Yeah, I can't decide if it's interesting, or distracting."

Zack regarded his friends, his chin in his black-gloved hands. He was secretly glad to have his floppy hair back, because he always thought he looked a little creepy with it cut short. He also reflected upon the way even he had gotten the hint when Agent Booth made that quip about how he already spends so much time in Brennan's real life, and why would she want him in her fantasy life, too, and decided that by sequeing so quickly to the part where Dr. Brennan adjusted Booth's back, the writers had missed a moment for one of the duo's long searching looks that so prominently feature in the YouTube videos that he'd discovered in the Loony Bin library. But he merely said, "What do we think about next week's trailer?"

"Eh," said Cam.

"I'm fine with it," replied Booth, as he played with the silken, fragrant strands of his Bones' hair, and she rested her hand on his thigh under the table. At least there weren't any Seacrest-y grad students this time.


	5. The Missing Piece from the Purple Pond

**The Missing Piece from the Purple Pond-- Interlude**

Wendell took one last look at the darkened lab, shaking his head. These people were a minefield, he reflected, although once he realized that Dr. Brennan really just was as naive as she seemed, he probably could have kept working there. But he'd made his decision, and he was going to stick with it.

As he exited the lab, a shadow detached itself from the side of the building. "All set, kid?" the friendly and gravelly voice inquired.

"Yes, fine," Wendell replied. "I left my resignation note, my ID badge, and my lab coat in her office. I appreciate your explanation to me earlier, although Ms. Montenegro also explained the situation, though from a different perspective, after we met."

The man walking alongside him nodded and smiled, the moonlight glinting off the silvered hair at his temples, and bathing the deep smile lines on his face in shadow.

"Well, you should focus on school, young man. Here's the rest of the money," he said, handing Wendell a small backpack that did not appear out of sorts with the young man's otherwise student-like appearance.

"Thank you, sir. It takes a weight off my shoulders to know that I can repay my neighbors and get on with my studies."

"You're welcome, kid," the man said. The two walked in silence the rest of the way to the Metro stop. At the top of the stairs, before the young man began to descend into the subway, he turned and smiled at the older man who'd been keeping him company.

"You never said what your name was," he tried, but the older man just smiled and laughed.

"Nice try, kid. Better you don't know, for everyone's sake. It's cleaner that way." He smiled more widely then, and reached into the deep pockets of his leather jacket to pull out a small paper bag. "Here, for the road. Have a snickerdoodle."

The young man smiled and thanked the older man, then descended into the subway. The older man smiled, then jammed his hands in his pockets, walking away, whistling an old Poco song. "_Now if I can just find a way to get my hands on the rest of this season's scripts_," he thought to himself, as he slipped into a shadow, and was gone.


	6. The Crank in the Shaft

**A/N: With thanks to celtic33 for his suggestion re: upcoming spoilers. **

The Crank in the Shaft

"Pass me those doughnuts, will you?" Booth motioned at Hodgins from where he was sitting, his arm looped possessively over the back of Brennan's chair. Hodgins slid the tray across, and Booth leaned forward to grab it, wincing slightly as his back bent. Brennan, wearing a lightly amused smile, pushed back from her chair to stand and push down on Booth's back just as he was beginning to straighten. He gave a faint yelp, surprising everyone at the table with his seemingly-uncharacteristic reaction, given his often stoic demeanor, but the tension that had been lining his face up to that point drained, and he turned to give Brennan a winning Charm Smile. "You're really good at that, Bones," he said, his voice warm and slightly amazed as he reflected on all the overtly nice things Brennan had done for him so far this season, including calling HR yesterday to recommend that he get the chair he'd been coveting, based solely on merit. Of course, she hadn't known the chair would suck, but then again, no one did. And... it was shiny, and leather, and important-looking with those tufty brass fixings in the seatback. He was tough. He could handle it. Besides, it wasn't like he actually spent any more time at his office than the directors felt necessary to re-establish that he actually worked somewhere besides the lab or his car.

"You hurt your back again, Seeley?" asked Cam with a smirk, amused that after all his whining about lumbar support, Booth didn't even bother to investigate whether the chair he wanted was comfortable. She also noted how, yet again, the partners had shown a remarkable growth in the level of physical intimacy between them, not only by Dr. Brennan's adjusting Booth's back last episode (and the amusingly poleaxed look on Booth's face when Brennan's breasts came into contact with his back during the process), but during their session with Dr. Sweets in this episode, when Dr. Brennan hadn't hesitated to reach out and firmly place her hands on Booth's legs in order to make him stop jostling them.

"Shut up, Cam," he growled. "And stop calling me Seeley. Everyone else calls me Booth." He looked at his Bones, and thought privately to himself that he wouldn't mind if she called him Seeley, especially if it was in the context of something like, "_Seeley, make love to me_," or "_Seeley, I love you_," or "S_eeley, I promise I'll never ask for a gun again and never nag you to drive if you just agree to let me give you a hummer every day for the rest of our married lives_." Okay, that last one was maybe pushing it. She would always insist on wanting to drive.

"This episode was really pretty _meh_," commented Angela, once again annoyed that she'd been wearing a tank top dress in a professional and physically chilly environment, and also annoyed at the way the writers had chosen to make her look pretty flaky. They could have worked harder at writing some dialogue that displayed her inner conflicts better, including her apparent lack of emotional maturity and/or fear of commitment. Sweets, sitting next to the artist, glanced at her occasionally as his stomach growled. She might be tall and skinny, but she sure huffed down a lot of his fries at the diner. He was also grumpy because he hadn't had anything effective to do, despite the fact that he did confirm what Ms. Julian said. There were tons of fangirls online who thought he was totally awesome. And where was that damned girlfriend? Agent Booth had said he would get one eventually, and he was pretty sure the agent kept his promises.

"Oh, I don't know," replied Hodgins. "I seem to have returned to a basically pre-breakup level of crankiness, interspersed with occasional opportunities to smile sweet and charming smiles that show off my piercing blue eyes. I mean, except for Dr. Brennan, I do have the best eyes on the show."

"I'm sorry, Hodgins," replied Dr. Brennan, "but while you do have very nice eyes, they are not warm, or soulful, or knowing and sensitive, a deep brown velvet whose warmth enfolds you like a hug." Her hand was absently stroking Booth's leg as she said this, and he felt a jolt go through him again at her touch. Or maybe it was just his back again. Damnit. Now he was going to have to go buy a chair that looked like the new one but actually worked. He smiled at his Bones, and she smiled back, and each one's gaze locked on the other's.

"Eye sex," murmured Angela across the table to Cam, and the pathologist looked over and snorted.

"Fewer product placements this time, aside from the Toyota badge on Booth's vehicle," noted Sweets, wanting to give his patients their moment. They really were cute.

"Well," said Hodgins, arching an eyebrow, "the Apple logo on Dr. B.'s laptop when Angela went to see her in her office was rather prominent, although I think she had that computer last season as well. But I did hear that on at least one network affiliate, watched by a particularly obsessed fanfiction writer, there was an i-Phone commercial played several times during the episode."

Sweets looked at the entomologist, then spoke. "It is crass, but hardly a conspiracy, Dr. Hodgins." He then stopped speaking, wondering perhaps if his "_I hate everyone_" coping mechanism was starting to fade back into his amusing and generally harmless paranoia. He hoped so.

"The murder this week was really lame," came Booth's voice. The other characters looked over, only to see that the two partners were stroking one another's cheeks lovingly. "I mean, too many flaky characters, not enough serious plot to build up the real murderer, and in some ways, it was more than a bit distasteful, because the episode failed to adhere to Bones' and my general ethos that all murder victims deserve a resolution, and that the investigation of the murder shouldn't be too jokey."

"I entirely concur," Brennan replied, turning her face against Booth's cheek and placing a warm, sweet kiss into his palm. "Although I rather did like my depressed intern this week, even if he did seem to annoy Cam. And Cam, I enjoyed when you called him Eeyore. But he did interject enough actual science into the show, and provide me with an opportunity to find the cause of death in my usual and brilliant flash of insight."

Booth agreed, internally, as he gently stroked his thumb along his stunning partner's cheekbone. The blue of her eyes was really evoked during that scene in the lab room, the white lights of the table shining up to contrast the blue of her lab coat, the pearlescent glow of his beloved Bones' skin, and the haunting, knowing oceanic depths of his one true love's eyes. But instead of professing all of his feelings for the woman who was his soulmate out loud, he merely said, "Nice Kierkegaard quip, there, Cam, with Mr. Fisher." He further reflected that it was okay with him if this intern stuck around. He was smart, he was really weird looking, and his verbal interactions with Bones had prompted her passionate and magnetic speech about how mathematics were themselves inherently beautiful, but even more so when they allowed you to find the truth of a murder and restore someone's dignity. He knew that Bones' passion for her work and the truth underlay all her actions, but he sometimes felt like the writers allowed her to be a bit of a cipher, without giving her some nice speeches, like he often had, that allowed the audience to connect further with the character.

Cam's head turned around at hearing the Agent's voice, bringing her back to the present. She'd been day dreaming about the fact that the slightly overweight but amusing Indian character actor at the office building had called her beautiful. Not that she would ever hook up with someone like that, but she was beautiful, and she thought it was well past time for her to get a little nooky again. "You know who Kierkegaard is, Seeley?"

The Agent nodded, solemnly. "I read a lot of philosophy during my nights staking out my targets in Kosovo. Kierkegaard, as a deeply religious existentialist, whose philosophy was essentially that life was too short not to take leaps of faith, particularly appeals to me."

Brennan moved her chair closer, then took the Agent's hand and pulled it to her, clasping it between her warm, full breasts, and stroking his arm. She sighed, at the depths of her true love's intellect, and reflected on how he was all heart, and did take leaps of faith. They scared her, sometimes, but she was slowly learning to trust him. Plus, she reflected, as she clasped his strong, yet sensitive hand, and rubbed her nimble fingers over his long and dexterous phalanges, watching him put his hand over that of the distraught murderer's in the confession scene made her reflect not only on what a wonderful man he was, but on how huge and talented his hands would be, roaming over her body with a lover's haste and yet tenderness. A pool of heat began to grow in her core as she imagined the sensations that would course through her once her luminescent skin was bared to him. She also didn't care for the way he looked like a bit of a whiny goofball this week, though the confession scene and the sweet surprised look on his face when she told him what a talented and dedicated Agent he was probably made up for it.

"The body was particularly gross this week," noted Angela, as a way to distract herself from the fact that her hair had been kind of weird-looking this episode. She also reflected on how Jack's beard and hair grew in a bit, making him look like less of a nazi. She also snorted in recollection of the peanut butter and froot loop sandwich the stoner guy at the office was making when Brennan and Booth went in to confront him.

Hodgins, stroking his chin through his re-growing beard, said "I noticed that FBI tech lab guy Marcus Geier, the tall brunette dude with the glasses, was back in this episode. That kid's funny, in his super-sarcastic way-- they should give him more lines or something. Maybe make him run the betting pool over at the Hoover about when Booth and Dr. B. are going to get together, finally."

"What did you thing of the trailer for next week, gang," asked Dr. Sweets, hoping at least that in the post-ep characters' wrap-up, he'd get some chance to be of some use.

"I was glad to see that Bones and I get to have more of our characteristic bickering banter, and I will say I'm rather charming and adorable when I'm being silly with Bones," replied Booth. The men at the table all reflected that yes, Booth was indeed charming and adorable. In a totally masculine way of appreciating that. Totally, thought Sweets, thinking further that the Agent's comment about being "_smokin' hot_" was, in fact, true. In a totally, purely, heteronormative aesthetic sense, of course. Damn, he thought further, I really, really, need a girlfriend this season. The women at the table just smiled in amusement, remembering that they got to see glimpses of two pairs of Booth's silly socks this episode, even if he was still wearing those boring black suits.

"The episode looks like it might be interesting," answered Brennan. "I just hope that if it is a transgendered person, then we spend some time seriously addressing the anguish such people go through, coming to grips with their gender identity, and that the writers don't use it as the basis for inappropriate jokes mocking what is coming to be recognized as a legitimate psychological disorder."

Sweets' head snapped up as he turned to look at his patient. Damn. First Sid has wise psychological stuff to add, and now even Dr. Brennan's getting all Obi Wan on him, too. What was up with _that_? And what was he going to do when his two patients resolved their unresolved sexual tension? Just be a profiler, with occasional guest spots? Crap. He'd better find a way to prolong the angst. Wait, he had it.

"You know," he said aloud, thoughtfully, "I was looking at some episode rumor sites, and there's apparently an upcoming episode where Agent Booth's brother Jared comes on and expresses an interest in Dr. Brennan. There are conflicting accounts of whether they go on a date, or kiss, or whether Agent Booth totally flips out and shoots something or takes the excuse to express his feelings, finally, but it's a situation I think we all ought to prepare ourselves for."

Angela looked at the young man, thoughtfully. She knew an attempt to get his actor's SAG dues paid by the show for another season when she saw one. She interjected, noting the dismay on both Bren and Booth's faces at the young puppy's words. "Well, I heard there's an episode where Bren and Booth wake up together, _naked_, in bed. Plus, I checked out that actor's website, and no way does he come even close to our studly Boothcake." The cloud that had darkened Booth's face at the mention of this heretofore vaguely referenced Booth's brother, and the depth of pain and insecurity that came into his eyes cleared at the thought that his character might get even some comedy of errors action with his beloved Bones. Plus, Angela thought he was hot, which was reassuring. Brennan's face also cleared, and she went back to clasping Booth's hand to her sternum, and thinking of all the things he could do to her with those hands. Booth, meanwhile, was thinking of the distracting proximity of Brennan's perfect full breasts to his hand, and the way he wanted nothing more at this instant than to sweep her into his arms, carry her down the stairs to her office, draw the blinds, lock the door, and have his way with her on her desk while she screamed his first name in ecstasy, admitting for all the lab to hear that she loved him and that he was the sexiest FBI Agent ever, in the history of the world. He also reflected that he was hungry.

"Hey, Hodgins, slide me another doughnut, will ya?" The bug man returned the tray to him, and with thanks, Booth snatched up a chocolate glazed doughnut, dispatching it with efficiency. As Brennan watched him lick the crumbs off his fingers, a shiver went through her and her pupils dilated, the levels of dopamine and norepinephrine in her blood rising as she reflected that she wanted to take him downstairs, draw the blinds and lock the doors to her office, then push him down on the couch and show him just what a sexy scientist she actually was. The two partners, attuned as ever, looked at each other, and had one of their moments where the rest of the world fell away while they stared into the eyes of the other.

Booth nodded, then stood, pulling Brennan, who was still holding his hand, up from her chair. "Bones and I gotta go," he said, "we left something down in her office." Brennan nodded, a serious look on her face, as the rest of the characters smiled agreeably. Those two were always disappearing off someplace. They watched as the two descended the stairs, Booth's hand at Brennan's back as always, then disappeared around the corner to her office.

- - - - -

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" he asked, locking the door to the office and pulling the blinds.

"Oh Seeley," she said, slipping off her lab coat and beginning to unbutton her blouse. "You know that I am. You always know what I'm thinking."

"The writers can f themselves," he said, advancing on her with the grace of a panther and a wicked smile on his face, as he tossed his well-tailored jacket to the side.

She licked her lips seductively, then said, "The desk or the couch, my love?"

He chuckled naughtily, then said, before capturing her lips, "Why not both, it'll be another 6 days before another episode airs. We've got all the time in the world, love of my life."

The force of their mutual swoons and burgeoning lust as their lips sealed together caused the lights in the lab to flicker-- almost as if a small midwestern city just lost all of its power.

- - - - -

The characters upstairs were finishing off the doughnuts and coffee when a series of crashes and unintelligible groans began to emerge from the closed doors of Dr. Brennan's office, right after the lights in the lab dimmed, and then came back up to full brightness.

"What's that noise?" asked Dr. Hodgins. "It sounds like it's coming from Dr. B.'s office."

"They're probably having a disagreement about gender identity, and Bren's probably throwing things at him again," offered Angela.

"It sounds more like wild office sex," said Dr. Sweets, trying to decide if it would be hot, or like seeing his parents do the deed, if he went down to check.

Cam shook her head. "I doubt it. Those two would never do anything so out of character."


	7. Pre The He in The She

Pre The He in the She

The characters were, once again, seated around the lounge table upstairs, Brennan and Booth, as always, seated next to each other. There was something different about them that the other characters couldn't quite place.

"Before we begin," Cam said, cocking her head to the side, "has anyone else noticed how since our meeting three days ago, the lights in the lab will occasionally go out or flicker for no good reason?"

Jack scratched his beard. "You know, I did. I also noticed that all the magnetic equipment in the lab is malfunctioning, and no longer accurately measures the earth's gravitational field."

Angela nodded. "I came into my office this morning, and my computer and couch were levitating. _Levitating_, people."

Doctor Sweets shook his head. "It's not just the lab. It's all over D.C. Why, when I got back to my office after our post-ep discussion, all my furniture was hanging from the ceiling, as if it was bolted there. The next day, it was sideways. The street signs all just popped out of the cement on my street last night. My toilet flushed backwards, like I lived in Australia. And I swear that the sun rose in the west this morning."

Cam's eyes widened. "You saw that, too?"

The four of them all shook their heads. Jack rubbed his hands together as a deep smile of squinty realization stole over his face, and then spoke. "It's clear to me that the laws of physics have been broken. Permanently. But it doesn't happen all the time. There's some force that is prompting each different instance of these scientific reversals of the natural order. We need to investigate. Perhaps even do an experiment. Maybe with spam. Or sea chimps. Whatever." Just then, as the partners smiled at each other, the coffee mugs on the table started to rise into the air.

"Crap," said Angela, grabbing her mug by the handle before it floated away. "I lost two cups of coffee yesterday when that happened. I'm going to bungee cord the damned mug to my wrist at this rate." Sweets, meanwhile, was chasing his cup as it floated across the lounge, jumping up and swiping his somewhat gangly arms in an attempt to reach and recapture his cup. He needed his caffeine-- this was totally wretched.

"Hadn't noticed," said Booth, smiling at his amazing, incredible, gravity-defying Bones, as he recalled that thing she did with her mouth when it rained flower petals sideways while they were on her dining room table.

"Can't say I have either," she murmured, stroking the hand of her unbelievable, wonderful, Booth, while recalling that thing he did with his hands while they were upside down on the ceiling as lightning flashed and the sun rose in his bedroom.

Cam narrowed her eyes. "Hey, how come your two mugs are still on the table?"

Brennan's eyes twinkled, merrily. "Perhaps they have different centers of gravity."

Booth smirked. "Yeah, centers that hold."

- - - - -

The newly erratic laws of physics continued to hold through the eve of the next episode. But the reversals of natural laws were always benign. The sun still rose, though sometimes it was in the west, and sometimes in the east, and on Sunday, it just burst into full noon at seven a.m. In fact, despite the odd happenings, the weather had been beautiful-- sunny and temperate every day, and a full moon with deep, twinkling stars every night. Each constellation, including ones usually only visible in the southern hemisphere, was visible in the sky overhead. The astrophysicists were totally, totally, perplexed, Sweets reported. Cars seemed unable to speed, falling objects managed to miss people standing directly below them, and a feeling of sated joy and calm settled over the city-- like everyone had enjoyed earth-shattering lovemaking, even people who took vows of chastity. There was no violence at all. It was as if universal true love had prevailed.

No one saw Booth or Brennan for the rest of the week, but somehow the overarching atmosphere of joyous calm in the city prevented their families, friends, and co-workers from noticing. Either that, or they were too busy chasing their coffee cups, and trying to sit on their floating furniture. And in Hodgins' case, watching sea chimps eat spam in a tank full of champagne, whose bubbles floated down, instead of the more usual up. Not that it proved anything, but it was cool, so, whatever.


	8. The He in the She

"NOVEMBER?!" Dr. Sweets groaned aloud and shook his head, as the rest of the characters looked on, nodding their heads in agreement. "We have all this lovely progression between our two heroes over the last few episodes, and FINALLY get a little bit of a peek into Agent Booth's inner life, including the visible re-emergence of the poker chip, and now we have to wait for November before we find out what happens next? This is killing me, people. Please, someone tell me there's another episode to come between now and then that I missed in my frantic googling and message board searching."

Cam sniffed her arm where that Vino Delicious intern (mmm, he was yummy, she thought, trivia spouting habits notwithstanding) touched her when saying goodbye, then smiled sympathetically. "I looked, too, Dr. Sweets. I haven't seen anything except that November trailer with a seeming indication that I've hired Max Keenan, assassin of corrupt FBI deputy directors to work at the lab, and the funny-cute scene where he asks Booth if he's gay because he's not sleeping with Brennan."

Angela snorted. "That looked funny. I'm looking forward to seeing the rest of that conversation."

Jack smiled, wryly, reflecting sadly to himself that he admitted out loud that Zack would never be coming back. It hurt, but it was progress, and he'd gotten some good zingy snarks for his actor to say in this episode, as well as a field trip out of the lab to look at that boat. "Me too, Angie. It ought to be fun."

Angela smiled back at him, her annoyance at being dressed yet again in another unprofessional sleeveless shirt outfit giving way to the moment of intellectual bonding she and Jack shared as they went through her sketches that allowed her to find the victim's former identity. "I'm glad I actually got to use my art skills for real crime fighting this episode, including helping Booth out with the interrogation, and that I joined you in zinging that brogue-laden puppy when he tried to zoom me. I am definitely too much car for him. And did you see that eyeroll I gave him?"

Sweets snorted. "Dude. That was awesome."

Max Keenan popped around the head of the stairs just at that moment. "Hey kids, just gearing up for what looks like a more regular role on the show, and gee, I've got to say I'm excited. I bet fans are, too. I mean, my Charm Smile and twinkling eyes are second only to Booth's. Can I grab anyone some snacks or more coffee? How about you, Pumpkin?" He gazed warmly over at his daughter, who was, as usual, seated next to Booth. He thought it was a little odd that the metal objects behind them were doing a little dance in the air, as if the earth's magnetic field didn't obey the usual rules around them, but then again, he didn't get why the writers hadn't had the two of them do it already, so he kept silent, though he did note the way the coffee cups on the table rose again when Booth reached over to hold the hand of his dear, sweet, affection-starved daughter. Everyone grabbed their cup quickly as it started to rise, and this time, no coffee sloshed onto the table.

In the week since the last episode, everyone had gotten used to the new rules of physics, and were constantly poised to sit sideways on chairs or catch water flowing up out of faucets. It added whimsy to people's lives, in the end, and the air of calm, love, and utter sexual satiation still pervaded the city. Max shook his head, and started refilling everyone's mugs with more coffee.

"Thanks, Daddy," said Brennan softly and warmly. "While in the trailer I say it's not my idea to have you work in the lab, I'm sure in my heart I welcome the chance to spend time with you, especially since the writers made such a big deal about how messed-up I was from your abandoning me, and then we didn't see you for eight episodes. It's all very strange. I think Booth's writer's strike theory still holds water." She also thought with relief on her character's small look of confusion and interest during the episode when she said "I call you Booth and I like you just fine," and Booth rejoined, "But we're not married." She hoped that the writers meant to indicate that her feelings for Booth were finally dawning on her. She was also glad that this new makeup artist her actor had was continuing to use just the right amount of makeup to complement her dewy pale skin and wide, luminous eyes.

Booth smiled as he lifted a tousled strand of hair from his beloved Temperance's cheek, reflecting on the warm glance he bestowed upon her during the church service at the end of the episode, and the way in which she was becoming increasingly open and honest with him, expressing her insecurities. Though he still thought he would look "smokin' hot" as a woman, there was no way he would ever change from being the best man he could be, for his wonderful, incredible, brilliant Bones. Who was out of this world in bed, though they'd agreed not to share that with the rest of the characters. "We don't want OOC accusations," Bones had reasoned as they spooned during their blissful post-coital glow, and he had to agree with her, despite his wife to trumpet their new status to the entire world. Preferably by kissing her senseless in front of every character who'd ever been on the show. Especially that Stires character. He really still hated him. But Bones was right, it was better not to mess too much with series continuity. Then he smiled again-- who knew his Bones was a cuddler? Instead, he said aloud, "We had a lot more science, some cop-talk from me, and a very sensitive and appropriate handling of the issues of transgender and religious identity. I was a bit worried the writers would make things too jokey, but I think that the small bits of banter in this show were timed properly, and were not disrespectful toward the murder victim in the episode."

Brennan, smoothing her hand over her enchanting, masculine, intelligent Booth's tousled hair, said "Yes, and we got to see some of your inner struggle, through your searching, thoughtful, and meaningful looks, as conveyed by your furrowed brow and soulful brown eyes, your toying with your poker chip, as Sweets mentioned, as well as your comment about 'redemption through transformation, I get that' at the end of the episode. I do think there was a deeper meaning to my 'always swim with a buddy' comment, too-- namely, that I am coming to admit that I need not be alone in the world, and that I would be happier with a buddy to swim with." She privately reminisced on the way her incredible Booth was the most sensitive, caring lover she'd ever had, and made a mean breakfast omelet, too, regretting all over again that they had to keep their newfound relationship secret to preserve continuity. Who knows, she thought further. Maybe some fanfiction writer will do a piece where they've been secretly together since the start of the series. She would love to read that. Meanwhile, the characters sipped their coffees as the lights flickered in time with the passes of Brennan's delicate, dexterous fingers through her beloved Booth's hair.

"I just hope that buddy means Booth, and not this dude they've cast as Booth's brother for a two-episode arc," added Angela. "Maybe it will make Booth say something, FINALLY, and then this mysterious brother can hook up with Cam." Cam vigorously nodded agreement. The actor wasn't Booth's actor, but he still looked pretty hot.

"Maybe Booth has a sister that I can hook up with too?" asked Sweets hopefully, thinking again to himself that Agent Booth said 'eventually,' right?

"Sorry, Sweets, I don't know how many siblings I have, and given the difference in our ages, I'd have to have a lot of siblings to have one in your age range." Booth smiled comfortingly, thinking of how Sweets had said "very insightful." and was actually of help in the investigation, finding the victim's son.

Cam turned the subject. "What did we think of the character actors this week? I thought the intern was delightfully quirky, but cute, especially that accent, and the victim's son was very well done-- quite a good actor, indeed. Plus, they're continuing to use more outdoor sets, and that nice lighting, which makes me think we got a bigger budget this season based on DVD sales and maybe through Hulu and Fox online episode hits."

"Bigger budgets are good, it means more field trips for me. Speaking of continuity," Jack added, "Did anyone notice Booth's old office chair is back, instead of the one he lobbied for so seriously last week?"

"I did," murmured Booth, thinking that the old chair was just way more comfortable than the new one, issues of status notwithstanding. He also thought about how he was still wearing those boring black suits, but at least had a variety of ties in this episode, including the one at the beginning that matched the color of his stunning Bones' well-fitting jacket. He'd have to go back and re-watch the episode to see if there were other instances where their outfits coordinated. Normally, he would think that was a little hinky, but here, it just proved that they were soulmates, and knew one another's minds perfectly. As his ankle touched Bones' under the table, the other characters' chairs began levitating. Without breaking stride, though, they each grabbed on to the table to hold on until the chairs settled again and continued the discussion, murmuring thanks as Max refilled the coffees again and came back with a tray full of cookies, including his trademark Snickerdoodles.

Angela nodded in agreement. "He had some pretty cool tats and piercings, too, and did a nice job of conveying how the message of Christian religion need not be conservative, condemning, or exclusive."

Brennan mused aloud further. "There were a few more instances of my sometimes-blunt mannerisms, but as the congregant said at the start of the episode, 'I will keep everyone honest.' I was glad that there weren't any instances of correcting my unfamiliarity with popular culture sayings and knowledge-- I'm sure there's some angsty reason why I don't know them, such as that I was fostered with an extremely religious and killjoy family, whose dogmatism and narrow-mindedness helped form who I am today. I was also glad we officially confirmed that Booth is from Philadelphia-- the Steelers and Fliers paraphenalia on his desk at work made Pittsburgh equally plausible."

Booth stroked the side of her neck, saying, "Me too. After all, I can't know where I'm going unless I know where I've been." As his sexy, scintillating Brennan smiled back at him, the spam-eating sea chimps in Hodgins' tank of champagne evolved, formed speech organs, and began to sing Barry White's 'My First, My Last, My Everything,' in the quiet of Jack's side lab. Booth's keen sniper hearing picked up the noise, and he starting humming the tune under his breath, in perfect harmony with the sea chimps downstairs. After all, he had been the All-State choir boy in high school, even after his voice changed to his warm, comforting baritone. Plus, he loved Sea Chimps.

The characters wrapped up their discussion, promising to meet in the interim, if just to discuss any new things they thought of when re-watching the most recent episode on their office computers, because the T1 lines at the lab were way faster than their internet connections at home. If they had homes, that is, since they'd only ever showed Booth and Brennan's apartments. Booth rose as Brennan did, his hand making contact with her lower back just as Disneyfied cartoon birds burst into song overhead. "See you guys later," smiled Brennan over her shoulder. "Booth and I have an appointment to get to."

The characters all smiled and waved, the air of contentment preventing them from wondering how the two heroes could have an appointment between now and November while the show was on hiatus. Max, while dusting the cookie crumbs off the table, looked down to see Booth leading his daughter out of the lab, his broad, manly, protective hand at her back, and reflected that even he, vigilante lawman that he was, could admire how handsome Booth looked in that suit. In a totally fatherly, purely platonic way, of course. And then he grabbed at the dustpan and brush, which rose into the air almost as soon as his daughter and her partner disappeared from view. He couldn't wait for November. The Season Three DVDs would be out before then, right? He'd have to steal a computer and internet access to check that one out. He had until November to get straight, right?


	9. October Interlude 1

"I'm bored," said Cam, entering Angela's office. Now that the cameras weren't on, both women were clad in professional layers, which nonetheless showed their attractive curves. After all, these were two attractive female characters with no self-image problems, who understood that a man could be as tantalized by the thought of what lay beneath the fabric as some more obvious show of skin.

"Tell me about it," Angela sighed. "Three more weeks of nothing to do? I have no faces to reconstruct, I've already improved the Angelator so much it will probably take the writers two seasons to catch up with me, and as far as I can tell, the paintings hanging on the walls here, while mine, were painted elsewhere. I wish I knew if I had a studio, I'd totally go there to paint."

Cam, who had seated herself on Angela's couch, wondered again at the raw deal she'd gotten on offices. Of course, she was the cold, steely pathologist, so they'd given her an office to match, but she was the boss, and she would like an office with a cushy couch like Brennan or Angela, and walls painted in attractive, soft colors. Though she could never figure out why Brennan's walls were pink. She just didn't seem like a pink type.

"Tell me about it," she sighed. "No fleshy bodies to cut up, no dessicated fingerprints to restore with fabric softener, no man-meat to seduce."

Angela thought about giving her a glare over the Grayson episode, but decided to let bygones be bygones. Rising from her computer, she crossed to the couch and sat down next to the petite, and yet strong-looking pathologist. Cam was very attractive, Angela thought. Those wide, almond shaped eyes, and the cafe au lait tint of her skin, that long, straight black hair, and those legs. She must use the stairmaster like nobody's business.

"I tried to get Jack to go out to lunch," she said, grumbling, "but he's too busy teaching those sea chimps nuclear physics."

Cam's eyebrow arched. "Already? He was only on trigonometry Sunday."

Angela nodded, confusedly. "They lurched past three more evolutionary steps on Tuesday night. As far as I can tell, right after the earth started spinning in the opposite direction for three hours. So, so, weird."

Cam just shook her head. "I saw Zack was in Wednesday, teaching them how to sing Handel's Messiah. They actually sound pretty good with Zack's countertenor."

Angela smiled. Off-episode, it was lovely to have Zack back around, being his usually awkward and lovable self. "He said that they would be ready for the Off-Episode Jeffersonian Gala at Christmas."

"Where's everyone else?" Cam asked.

"Well, I haven't seen Brennan since that post episode wrap, and God knows what Booth does in his spare time. They way the writers would have it, he has no social life outside the repartee and carmaraderie he gets here at the lab. It's too bad, really." Angela shook her head at the shame.

Cam nodded agreement. "Especially since Seeley probably has some hot friends I could hook up with. I mean, man-meat like that doesn't hang with the uglies."

Angela threw her head back, pealing with laughter. Cam admired the long, slim column of the artist's throat, and her slender and vibrant shoulders and chest as she arched in amusement. She wondered what it might be like to tangle her hands in Angela's curly brown hair with deep gold highlights, but then stifled the thought. That would be out of character, and she was the boss around here. Someone had to keep order while Booth and Brennan were out of the lab.

The lights flickered just then, and Angela's couch lurched, then started to levitate. The women, surprised, fell sideways into each other, Cam falling on top of the nearly prone Angela. Both woman inhaled at their proximity, their lips mere inches from the other. At this distance, Angela could smell Cam's perfume, some woodsy oriental that just screamed seduction. She licked her lips, and then spoke.

"You know, according to fansites, an old lesbian flame from my past comes back for an episode..."

Cam inhaled sharply, fighting the urge to lean forward and kiss Angela's soft, touchable lips. She closed her eyes. "No, we can't. It would be too out of character for me."

Angela's hand stroked the side of her face. "Look at me, Cam," she said, softly. When the pathologist opened her eyes, Angela could see they were already glazed with desire. "In fanfics, you and I often are portrayed in femslash stories. Would this be so different?"

Cam groaned, as the artist's deft fingers brushed against her lips. "But..." she panted, losing her battle against her desire, "in those fanfics it's always one or the other of us with Dr. Brennan. There's never been one with the two of us, much as I..."

Angela smirked. She knew that she'd won. "There's a first time for everything, Cam," she said, then lifted her head to kiss the pathologist, as her hand snaked into Cam's hair to pull her head down to hers. Breaking apart, she said, "And besides. God knows when our characters are going to get laid again, otherwise."

Cam laughed, and then licked her lips. "You have a point." She bent again to Angela's lips, giving in to the siren call of Saint OOC.

- - - - - - -

"Dude, that is hot," murmured Sweets, as he stood at the railing of the lounge, looking directly down into Angela's office. He had a clear view of the two women on Angela's levitating couch.

"I must but agree," said Vincent Nigel-Murray, as he watched both too-much-car-for-him women embrace, as Angela pushed Cam up to unbutton her professional and yet curve-enhancing suit jacket.

Sweets shook his head in chagrin. "Agent Booth promised eventually," he said to himself, then jolted in shock as he felt a hand trace its way up his arm.

A lilting English accent spoke in his ear. "They do call me Vino Delectable for a reason..."

Sweets took a step back, considering. The guy was attractive, but in the end, he just didn't swing that way. "I appreciate the offer, really, I do, but let's just watch 'til they finish and then go get a beer."

Vinny nodded his head in agreement. It was alright with him, really. It was just, well, the therapist didn't seem like too much car, and all knowledge was worth having. Oh well, he thought to himself. Maybe he'd get action on some other show when his actor next got a guest spot.


	10. October Interlude 2

October Interlude 2

Meanwhile, across town, in a startlingly familiar Asian-esque bar for written-off characters, three men of varying ages came in and sat down at the bar. Sid slid a beer over to Cullen, a neat scotch to Dr. Goodman, and a mai-tai, complete with umbrella, to Sully.

"What?" Sully asked, when the other two snorted. "Sid gave it to me."

Sid nodded, wisely. "Tim here needs the antioxidants and vitamins from that fruit juice. For all we know, his character's been constantly at sea since he sailed off on Dr. Brennan. This will help with the scurvy."

Sully shot a triumphant look at the other two. He was glad that Sid was willing to humor his passion for mai-tais, and then excuse it to others.

"To Peru, or wherever I am," Goodman toasted, as Cullen nodded and murmured "retirement," also raising his glass.

Sully shook his head, then said "to feckless, irresponsible lollygagging," and twirled his paper umbrella on the bar as he sucked his drink through his straw.

Just then, Eeyore, Wendell and Vino Delectable walked in, trailed by Mr. Starrett, who looked harried by that chatterbox, Daisy Wick. Sid waved and pointed them toward a booth in the corner, saying "Be right over."

"Busy in here tonight," Sully remarked, then sighed as he saw the gaggle of Brennan's other ex-boyfriends walk in. There was David, the creepy online cult guy, the oily user Michael Stires, the insane axe murderer guy, Gay Jason, and Mark, the deep sea welder. They all grumbled when Sid waved them away from the bar, and over to a booth where they'd have to all sit, together.

"I suppose I should join them," Sully groused, but a plummy British voice behind him stopped him.

"No need there, old chap. Those booths are for characters with less than two episodes per. You stay here with those of us with real character arcs." The other characters nodded in agreement. Compared to those losers, Sully was a real prize. Yeah, he'd sailed off into the sunset, but that was the writer's device, not his. He loved Tempe, he'd have stayed. Though his character probably would have ended up getting pounded by Booth at some point-- the guy did shoot an ice-cream truck clown, after all. Maybe sailing off into the sunset wasn't so bad.

Sid pushed a black and tan over to the newest arrival, then said "Yo, Gordo-Gordo" as he fist-bumped the lovable British psychiatrist.

"Sid, my dear man," the astute shrink replied. "To unexplained replacements by twelve year olds," he said, toasting the other four men. The others echoed the toasts, sipping their drinks. Somewhere, Dr. Sweets' ears burned.

"Be right back," said Sid, then, carrying off a tray full of drinks almost as indistinct and/or broadly drawn as Brennan's ex-boyfriends. He then returned, and poured out and carried off a tray of stereotypically quirky grad student drinks. Except for one neat scotch. Sid, too, liked Mr. Starrett.

He'd just returned to the bar when the lights flickered. As a one, every character grabbed their drink with one hand and the table (or bar) in front of them with the other, as the chairs, booths, and barstools started to rise. They all looked on in wonder as it started raining daisies and daffodils, inside the bar.

"Better than the rose petals last week," said Sid. "Those stuck to everything."

"Tell me about it," commiserated Dr. Goodman. "My Hittite remains took forever to clean."

Cullen just shook his head, while Dr. Wyatt stroked his portly chin thoughtfully. He remembered the episode where Agent Booth guessed all of Dr. Brennan's computer passwords, even if no one else seemed to. Perhaps he'd just avoided as much exposure to both partners to be less snowed under by the haze of post-coital bliss that had settled over the city. It seemed like any character who'd had significant interaction with both was inclined to turn all mushy-headed during these strange physical events.

As soon as it stopped raining flowers, everyone sighed in repletion. At least each weird physical event was still followed by the incredible feeling of wholeness and love, at long last. No one noticed as Gordon-Gordon slipped out.

--

"Tell me, Dr. Addy, you're a very smart man," said Dr. Wyatt, sitting opposite Zack in a chair in the loony bin library. "What do you make of all these changes in the natural laws?"

Zack regarded him thoughtfully before speaking. "Are you asking as a fellow character? Or as a psychiatrist, trying to assess me?"

Dr. Wyatt was thrown for a loop. "Why, as a psychiatrist, of course. I mean, that is my character. So yes, I suppose I'm trying to assess you."

Zack smiled slightly, then leant in, and lowered his voice. "Well then, subject to doctor patient confidentiality? Here's what I think."

Wyatt leaned in, conspiratorily, and set to listening as Zack continued.

"There is no logical explanation, and the reason for that is… Dr. Brennan has transcended logic."

The psychiatrist thought for a moment, casting over past episodes to select appropriate relationship metaphor. "Ah. You meant to say that brains and heart have become one?"

Zack nodded wisely. "It's the only explanation, logical or not."

"But this is wonderful!" Dr. Wyatt cried. (He was a **_HUGE_** B/B shipper.) "We must tell everyone!" He was about to leap up to run back to Sid's to spread the good news when Zack grabbed his wrist.

Dr. Wyatt, surprised, stayed in his seat. Dr. Addy was stronger than he looked.

"You can't tell anyone," Zack stressed. "Not only is it confidential," he said, then lowered his voice to his whisper, "_but you'll destroy continuity_."

The pudgy, lovable shrink's face fell. "Ah, continuity. Quite right. Drat. Well then, what shall we do, Dr. Addy?"

Zack smiled engagingly. "They've got reruns of _Firefly_…"

The psychiatrist nodded approvingly. He rather relished that Zoe bird on the show. He quite fancied tough women. "Such a shame it was cancelled," he said out loud. "That Zoe, she's lovely."

Zack smiled, then confided, "I'm more of a River fan, personally."

As they sat down in front of the television and set to a space western marathon, both men kept to themselves their thought that Agent Booth would look very handsome in Captain Mal's leather duster, pants, and suspenders.


	11. The Skull in the Sculpture

The skull in the sculpture

Booth was just about to mount the stairs to the lounge, admiring Bones' gorgeous behind as she swayed up in front of him, when he sensed someone coming quickly toward him from behind. He whipped around in an instant, keen sniper senses on full alert to determine the threat and his response, but then stood down. There was no threat to his Bones. It was just Sweets, though he looked really happy. Before he could say anything, the tall, gangly therapist had thrown his arms around Booth, laughing and smiling and babbling incoherently about "eventually" and "girlfriend," and "thank you thank you thank you."

Booth withstood the hug as long as he could, before patting the boy on the back and pushing him away. "Yeah. Happy for you, Sweets. Just, keep her out of Cam and Bones' way, okay? They're both going to kill her if she sets foot in the lab again."

The young man smiled ecstatically. "Most definitely. I wouldn't want that." He would do anything Agent Booth asked him right now. He'd promised Lance that he would eventually get a girlfriend on the show, and he was right. He loved Agent Booth. In a totally platonic way, of course. Though he did look nice in that suit.

Cam called, "People! Let's go!" Booth climbed up the stairs, and took a seat across the table from Brennan, toward the end. She'd promised to make the change in position worth it while they attended the wrap up. God, he loved her. She was as insatiable as he was. And that, he reflected? That's a lot of insatiable. Although she still didn't eat as much as he did. Which reminded him-- he was hungry.

"Hey, Sweets, slide me a doughnut, will ya?" he called. The elated young therapist personally got up and ran over the doughnut, along with a cup of coffee made just the way Agent Booth liked it. He'd said "eventually," and it had come. He would do anything for Booth right now. Perhaps he could help him resolve the unresolved sexual tension between he and Dr. Brennan. They worked well together. He could approve their romantic relationship and shield them from whatever vague policy the Bureau might have against incredibly attractive, brilliant partners falling in love and still working together. Though he'd have to work on the Moonlighting Curse, too. Although... Scarecrow & Mrs. King hadn't suffered when they got married, he thought he recalled. He wish he knew, but that series wasn't out on DVD, and was only available in ten minute clips on You Tube. It was too bad-- Kate Jackson was cute.

Cam, still cranky from the reappearance of that Chatterbox Wick Chick, called the meeting to order, and bemoaned her pounding headache. Wick was gone from the lab, but the shocking kiss between she and Sweets on the platform, coupled with the startling yet adorable ass-pat seemed to mean that she'd be around in the future, even if in more limited contexts. She also groaned internally, because both she and Angela were back to sleeveless and short sleeved shirts in the lab again. Such a blatant grab for ratings in the 18-25 male demographic. But then, she thought of her inter-episode interlude with Angela and smiled, dreamily. Yes, they had to get back into character, but the feel of her hands tangled in Angela's hair... She shook herself. "Alright. I'll start. I noted that for the third episode this season, we seemed to have drawn on the drunk/stoned/teenage sex casting pool for the intro scenes. Anyone hear whether the SAG rules now have a "stupid young people" quota for TV series?"

Brennan shook her head, her perfect curls framing her face as she did so. "Nothing I've heard. I did hear from one obsessed fanfiction writer that there were three i-Pod commercials and two Toyota commercials on her local network affiliate. From my view of the episode, however, the product placements seemed somewhat less obvious."

Hodgins stroked his now Nazi-haired head and his weird-looking beard. "They messed up continuity again, this episode had to have been filmed with the last Wick episode, back when my hair was all weird. It grew in so nicely. Goddamnit." He also reflected, heartsore, on the awkward conversation between he and Angela at the start of the episode where Angela told him she was planning on starting to date again. Ah well. At least his online bugnslime grrlz still loved him.

Just then, Sassy Prosecutor Caroline Julian and Snarky, Tall, Glasses-Wearing FBI Tech Agent Marcus Geier mounted the stairs, and settled down at the end of the table. Cam nodded, pushing the tray of doughnuts down toward them. "Why are they here?" Sweets leaned in to ask Cam, confused. "They're side characters. I thought this meeting was for main characters only."

Caroline snorted. "Cherie, anyone who's got more than two lines in an episode can attend at least the post-ep wrap up."

Marcus Geier nodded, then added, "I'd like to thank Dr. Hodgins, though we don't get along on the show, for suggesting in the last post-ep wrap up that I get more lines and more face time. My actor may actually make rent this month."

Hodgins nodded at him. "Glad to hear it, man. And besides, it'll be good for me to have someone to play off of at crime scenes, since it seems like all of us are going to be let out of the lab more."

Angela smiled. "Yeah, I got to help Booth with a case, using my mad artist skillz, and Booth got all studly alpha-male with that pig of an artist, and slammed his face on the table when the dude tried to zoom me."

Booth smiled as Angela called him studly, accepting the praise. He _was_ studly, after all, and it was fun to slam that pig of an artist into the table. The writers were definitely letting more Dark Booth in to more episodes this season, which he was all down with. The female fans of his actor thought it was incredibly hot when his character did something alpha to protect Bones or one of the other people he cared about. Hell, he thought he was incredibly hot, too. And, he was hungry.

"Bones, sweetheart, hand me that doughnut, will ya, babydoll?" he said, too caught up in thinking about how fun it had been to be Dark Studly Booth in this episode to remember that he and Bones were supposed to be keeping their gravity-defying relationship on the down low. He braced himself for the smack he knew was coming.

"Babydoll, Booth?" came her voice, dripping with disdain. "Sweetheart? You've got to be kidding me. I'll give you your doughnut." She picked up a doughnut and threw it at him, smirking as the chocolate frosting smeared all over his shirt. The female characters all laughed aloud.

Goddamnit, he thought. He couldn't believe he'd slipped up like that. Although at least it was one of his million white dress shirts that went with one of his boring black suits. He had hope, though. He'd gotten that black jacket black t-shirt combo going on in the Angelator scene, this episode. Plus, in the trailer for the otherwise-dreaded "Booth's Not-Bad-Looking But Not As Studly As Booth Brother Zooms Bones" Episode, it looked like he might be wearing a grey suit and a blue shirt. He couldn't wait for Bones' talented, nimble fingers to remove it from him as soon as the next post-ep wrap-up was over. They might even use the diner set the next time-- they'd already made their way into the old Wong-Fu's set, which they'd found on a back lot. He'd loved making love to Bones on the bar top. Cute little puppies had landed on everyone's doorsteps that day, along with more cartoon tweety birds. Damnit. His mind was drifting again. He called himself back to attention, and said, sheepishly. "Sorry, Bones, I don't know what came over me."

Hodgins took pity on the G-Man. He knew, as everyone did, that Booth's unrequited love for Brennan made him a little mushy-brained sometimes. He knew Booth probably called Brennan those names in his head when he fantasized about her in his dark, lonely apartment. At least Booth had an apartment. All Hodgins knew was he had a garage, where Zack used to live. "I think the sea chimps put hooch in the coffee, there, G-Man."

"They're moving out of the tank already?" the Agent asked. Those sea chimps would be walking upright and replacing humans at this rate. But they did do a mean Barry White arrangement. They'd serenaded he and Bones one long Sunday afternoon while they made love in her office, and the moon fell out of the sky.

Hodgins nodded. "Yeah, writing, too, with underwater pens and waterproof paper. Although we haven't figured out a way to keep them hydrated in lesser champagne than Cristal, Veuve Clicquot Grande Dame or Dom Perignon. It's a good thing I'm rich, and can feed my creations only the finest champagne." Although he still couldn't figure out how they'd evolved higher brain functions and speech organs. It must have happend that day when unicorns galloped on the Mall and frolicked in the reflecting pool with LOLCats on their backs. And those hedgehogs from Cute Overload. Because, come on, who doesn't love hedgehogs?

A melodious chorus of sea chimps downstairs sang "We love you, Hodgins," as they heard their master promise them more expensive champagne. Everyone smiled. Those sea chimps were cute. And they sang well, too. Cam reflected that they seemed to be doing well on the eliminating hunger and ensuring world peace projects-- at least if the results of the recent presidential election were any test.

Sweets started to think about how to direct the characters back on topic, feeling full of himself now that he had a girlfriend (EVENTUALLY!) and had even gotten to kiss her in front of everyone who'd ever called him twelve. Plus, Angela and Dr. Saroyan had both sought his advice, and they were Hot, H-O-T, Hot. Too much car, but still, hot. Especially in those short-sleeved shirts. But he kept that part to himself, much as he did his thoughts about how hot Dr. Brennan looked in that short-sleeved black dress she wore in the scene where Booth and she discussed Angela's lesbian past. That milky skin, those generous curves, the waves in her hair, those startling blue eyes that saw through you. He slapped himself, mentally. He had a girlfriend now. Agent Booth had promised, and eventually had finally come. He directed his mind back on topic. "All kinds of new sets, including that bar where I had drinks and then lunch with Angela, twice. And some new sunrise and sunset shots of D.C., which is a nice change from the same four or five ones they've used the last three seasons."

Angela picked up the thread of the discussion. "This was a good episode for me, in some ways. I don't like that I still seem like a commitment-averse flake, but at the same time, I got lots of lines, a hot portrait of me by my hot ex-girlfriend, a girl-on-girl kiss in an eight o'clock timeslot, and I got to talk both Art and Squint. Some serious Squint, too, with that Angelator scene."

Brennan smiled at her friend. She was glad that Angela's mad computing and art skillz were showcased in this episode-- she really was a Squint no matter how she tried to pretend, and it made Brennan happy to have Angela's character reintegrated as a real part of the procedural component of the show, rather than as an afterthought. "I was a bit annoyed that there were three or four cultural references I didn't get this episode, but I was glad that I got to wear some more funky, anthropologist-type clothing during the late night investigation of the gallery with Booth." Booth nodded, thinking of how those scrunchy suede boots highlighted his Bones' fabulous gams. And how her skin was luminous, like the moon over the ocean. He wondered if he could get her to wear just the boots, later.

Booth nodded. "I got to pick a lock, which was cool, and I got to be all stalky and dangerous with my gun until the kabuki goth murderer lady in the gallery came out of that kitchen."

Geier chimed in. "I got to hand Dr. Brennan my blacklight, be sardonic at the scene, and I did really enjoy Dr. Hodgins' enjoyment in using the jaws of life." Brennan and Cam exchanged another eye roll, like they did in the scene in the show, though each kept silent. Poor Hodgins. He needed the outlet of the jaws of life, now that Zack wasn't around for crazy experiments.

Caroline Julian grumbled. "Those injunction scenes were ridiculous. If the show had a decent legal consultant, she'd have told them that was a totally cheap story device that would never have happened in the real world. Dead body? Not art. Not when it's bleeding, at least." She paused, said "Booth, cherie, hand me a doughnut." She stopped to take a bite of the last chocolate frosted, then continued. "I did laugh my rear off as Dr. Brennan dumped those beetles in, then, as well as her deadpan statement about how she hates lying. I also enjoyed my boy Jack's comment about it being a hard car shell with a gooey corpse filling. That was a good one, cherie." She took another bite of her doughnut, then finished. "But as to the legal angle-- there's an obsessed fanfiction writer who's also a lawyer who'd be glad to offer her services for free, just so lawyers everywhere watching the show don't snicker. She'd also be happy to write smut scenes for a ten o'clock timeslot change."

Brennan laughed at the compliment, even as she wondered if any of the smut scenes would be worth trying once they were off episode. "I did enjoy your crack about how artistic the car would be once it started stinking, Caroline. You do get some wonderful lines. And Booth and I did have one of our characteristic Booth/Bones moments with the 'Big Bang'/'it's been a while' exchange." Booth, meanwhile, reflected that that particular crack was perhaps a little mean. He sometimes thought that the writers made him a little bullying or unkind to his Bones, even though she was innocent in her absolute honesty and had only the best intentions. Her stoic exterior belied a depthless, caring heart. He couldn't help but think that some of her character's resistance to his character's obvious attraction to her had to do with the occasionally unkind remarks his character directed at her. Perhaps she couldn't quite trust him if he occasionally hurt her feelings.

Angela continued. "Booth had that funny interaction with Sweets while he was interrogating Roxie and ignoring everything Sweets said. He's so cute when he's getting all interrogatory. And, he got all cute and sarcastic when that pig artist called him a lummox." The women at the table nodded as a one, as they all reflected on the way the camerman always seems to focus on Booth's talented, masculine hands as he passes documents across the table to suspects. Those hands, they all thought, even Caroline. She was old, but not dead. And Booth? He was a fine-looking man.

Meanwhile, Brennan, who had slipped her shoe off her foot, unseen by the others, scooted her chair closer to the table. Booth, noticing the motion, did the same, reading her mind and sliding down in his chair and stifling a groan as Bones' warm little foot traced up the inside of his leg before coming to rest at... oh God, he'd better keep his brain under control. This was a T-rated fan fic, after all, and the author didn't want to lose her audience by moving the fiction to the M-rated section. The coffee cups on the table all started to rise as Bones smirked at Booth while he stifled the urge to shout "Temperance! Baby!" at the top of his lungs. The things that woman did to him. The table actually rose with one particularly deft... T-rated fic, T-rated fic, Booth repeated to himself. The table drifted back down.

Cam looked down at Booth and Brennan, who seemed to be having one of those moments Angela called "eyesex," even as one of those weird reversals of gravity seemed to be happening again. She didn't get the two characters. She wondered if the writers did, either. They were clearly over the moon for each other. "Yes. Seeley also had that nice moment with Angela in the car where he talked about his favorite lesbian aunt, showing the fans that he's not as provincial as his professed catholic faith might make him." Booth managed to shoot Cam a charm smile, despite the urge to moan "Oh, Jesus Christ, Bones!" aloud. Brennan smirked at him across the table, her bright blue eyes twinkling as she thought of all the M-rated things she would do to him when the wrap-up was over. She loved it when his eyes rolled back in his head like that. And the way he groaned "Boooonnnnneeessss."

Cam continued, oblivious, as were the rest of the characters, to the fact that the causes of all the physical disturbances were sitting right here. "Dr. Brennan's sarcastic remark about microfractures being, by definition, very small, to that suck-up Wick Chick was also quite funny."

Sweets bit his tongue. He knew Daisy needed to work on her demeanor, and the fact that he'd gotten to kiss her in front of the team went a long way toward him forgiving Dr. Saroyan's animosity toward his girlfriend. His girlfriend. Yeah, he liked the sound of that. And, Dr. Saroyan had stroked his ego a little when he burst out with his insecurities about his place with the team. But she'd skipped right over that, and actually complimented him, and entrusted him with something important, which had led to him getting ass patted, by his _girlfriend_, in front of people who would now know he was getting some play. Now he could concentrate on repaying Agent Booth by getting him and Dr. Brennan together. The sooner, the better. That speech with the two of them up on the catwalk over the platform was a clear, clear attempt by both of them to deny their rampant sexual attraction and deep-seated love for each other-- although he was a bit worried at the fleeting expression of worry? hurt? that shifted over the mobile, handsome features of Agent Booth's actor. This eventually stuff was for the birds. And the upcoming trailer? Well, he had the feeling there would be some serious Pouty/Broody Booth if Dr. Brennan hooked up with Agent Booth's brother. Maybe even some ice cream truck clown-shooting. Sweets didn't want that, it might mean that Dr. Wyatt came back. And really, the brother just wasn't as attractive as Booth. Not that he had anything but manly, platonic admiration for Booth. After all, he had a girlfriend now. God, he loved Agent Booth. He had some serious work to do to get him and Dr. Brennan together.


	12. The Con Man in the Meth Lab

The Con Man in the Meth Lab

Cam and Angela climbed the stairs to the lounge arm in arm, Sweets following. All three had self-satisfied grins on their faces as the results of their well-intentioned meddling paid off, as evidenced by Brennan's heartwarming toast to Booth, who was most definitely _not_ Booth-lite at all, at the end of the episode. Even Cam had come around to seeing the inevitability of the pair-- in the end, she wanted what was best for Seeley, and she could see Brennan was really the Queen of the Lab. And, on a completely different train of thought, the body this episode was really, really, gross.

Hodgins and Clark were over by the coffeemaker, solemnly discussing Clark's innovation with the trash sorter he helped Hodgins build. Cam bit her tongue as she saw them. The look of horrified guilt on Clark's face as Brennan nearly got conked on the head during a misfire of the sorter while he was competing for King of the Lab with Hodgins was more than enough to satisfy her wish to save the team from embarrassing press about experiments with sea chimps. Clark would be more circumspect with experiments in the future, she was sure, but his willingness to experiment would give Hodgins someone to play with. Plus, the sea chimps had proven handy in titrating the lab equipment, making it possible for her to trim the lab budget by laying off techs. That left more money for those personally-tailored form-fitting lab coats she liked to wear. But-- was she so vain she couldn't wear the same lab coat as everyone else, she wondered? Dr. Goodman never seemed to need his own uniform.

Brennan and Booth were seated next to each other, heads bent as they murmured something, most likely heartfelt endearments, outside the hearing of others. Cam was glad that the writers had finally done something concrete to advance Brennan's realization that Booth was the love of her life. She was getting tired of all the pre-relationship angst. She wanted to see them have sex, damnit, and have some angst _during_ a relationship for once. After all, if she wasn't going to get any play from Booth's handsome wino bastard of a brother, then somebody should get some play somewhere. It might as well be the two main protagonists. Cam wasn't so proud, too, to admit to herself that Brennan and Booth would make beautiful, scary-ass, smart crimefighting babies. Not that they'd have to, she was with Dr. Brennan on the no-kids thing, but damn. Their kids would be so hot no one could look at them directly-- it would be like staring at the sun.

Angela sat, patting the chair next to her as she arched an eyebrow at Cam. Cam joined her, and Sweets took chair on the other side of the pathologist. They all shared some more self-satisified grins.

"People, let's start," Cam called, and Hodgins and Clark both startled, looking guiltily over their shoulders. They'd been talking about getting the sea chimps in on the trash sorting action. Hodgins thought to himself, yeah, Clark would fit in just fine. They'd have him in on the Booth/Brennan betting pool in a matter of episodes, not seasons.

"Clark? Any bagels there?" called Booth, who was hungry, as always.

Clark startled again, and brought the tray of bagels and cream cheese over to Booth slowly and carefully. The agent didn't look mad about the way he'd done a visual "hot damn" double-take of Dr. Brennan in the Bone Room during the episode, but you could never be too cautious. That dude was scary and fierce with that shotgun at the end, and the way the well-tailored fabric of his blue shirt strained over the well-developed muscles of his arms and his back made Clark worry Booth would slam him into the wall for merely having a normal male hormonal reaction to the perfect white skin and incredible bosom of Dr. Brennan, as well as those legs that seemed to go on forever.

Booth, who actually possessed some mind-reading skills, though he chalked it up aloud to his "gut," gave a man-to-man charm smile to Clark. He knew that any male with a pulse, even a gay one, would admit that his Bones was a looker, so he didn't hold the guy's shocked reaction to Bones' hot-damn figure against him. She did look stunning in that scene in the Bone Room, the black lace at the bodice of her top giving a tantalizing glimpse of the curved, creamy skin underneath. Plus, Booth was just so happy to have gotten an episode that was mostly about him that he'd forgive almost anything. Except his brother, the manipulative alcoholic lazy-ass bastard. He was glad he was done bailing him out, especially after he tried to zoom Bones, and worse? He called her Bones-- no one called Bones that but Booth. Now that Booth realized that all the world's burdens need not rest on his shoulders, perhaps he could put to rest whatever other demons held him back from declaring his undying love to his Bones. But, getting back to the episode... he had a birthday, an alcoholic father, a history of bailing people he loved out of trouble, and finally, a baby blue shirt under his suit. He wasn't sure if the suit he had on over it was black or dark grey, the lighting was weird, but he'd take whatever steps the costume department gave his actor away from looking like an undertaker all the time. Plus, if he did say so himself, he looked hot in the khaki green collared shirt and jeans that he wore at the end of the episode.

Brennan, whose intuition for her darling Booth's feelings in this most recent episode was actually beginning to approach the complete, mind-meld-like rapport the two shared off-episode, smiled at Clark as well. It was a normal hormonal response, the way Clark did a double-take, and she wasn't too feminist that she minded being objectified every once in a while. She _was_ hot, after all. Even Dr. Sweets said so.

Sweets looked around. "Are we all going to be introspective today, or are we actually going to talk?"

Hodgins cleared his throat. "Okay. Something easy. Product placements and advertising. Dr. B's Sprint phone, the Toyota Prius passing outside the new bar set where Booth's birthday party was, and the Toyota and Sprint tie-in commercials. And... anyone know what happened to the diner set?"

Brennan thought, then proposed a hypothesis. "Perhaps it's being painted, and that's why we've had the bar the last two episodes. I may like stealing Booth's fries at the diner, though I think perhaps he just lets me think I'm stealing them, but it is nice to have some indication that we as a team are willing to socialize outside the lab."

Cam nodded. "Agreed. Plus, the bar lighting particularly complemented my skin. And, we all went out as a team to do something social, and Booth didn't get shot. But... no, wait, Dr. Brennan did, so maybe we'd better all just hang out here at the lab from now on. Or the diner. Although, come to think of it, Dr. Hodgins and Angela broke up there, so maybe we have bad restaurant karma. I say, bring back Wong Fu's-- I saw the season one DVDs, it looked like fun. Anyone have anything else?"

Angela, never one to beat about the bush, chimed in with an ear-to-ear smile, as she bounced in her chair. "Major, _major_, eyesex this episode, and all sorts of angsty expressions of confusion and longing when the other wasn't looking. Like, 9 million new fanvids on YouTube level eyesex and angsty expressions. _So_ hot. And the end, where Bren brings Booth cake outside and they sit at the bus stop, before Booth starts to tell her some of his closest, most deeply held secrets? Oh! My! God! I totally squealed."

Sweets nodded, agreeing, but kept to himself the fact that he and Daisy squealed too, when they watched the episode up in his office. (He didn't know if he had an apartment. It seemed like his patients were the only ones with personal space sets.) In fact, they started jumping up and down, holding hands, and yelling "Yay!!! Totally awesome!" when Dr. Brennan started her toast to Agent Booth, all the way through the end of the episode. (Lance and Daisy were both _**serious**_ B/B shippers.) Instead, though, he steepled his hands in front of his nerdy/pouty/hot lips, and said, "Yes, Agent Booth and Dr. Brennan did make leaps and bounds in their relationship this episode. They had their first serious misunderstanding and resolution, although my heart was in my throat there for a bit at the end when Agent Booth got angry and defended Jared by saying "_this from the woman who got her dad off a murder charge_." I thought that was a low blow, but at least he retracted it quickly, having realized that Dr. Brennan was, as always, only asking true questions. Don't you think so, Agent Booth? Dr. Brennan?"

"What? Huh?" asked Booth, as he and Brennan turned back to the table. The two had been hand-feeding each other pieces of bagels with cream cheese, and drinking from their coffee mugs as if they were intertwined champagne flutes. Everyone sighed at how romantic they were, as they grabbed their coffee mugs, which were hovering over the table again. The lights were flickering, too. And those damned cartoon birds were crapping on the exam tables, Cam reflected. At least the sea chimps didn't seem to mind wiping it up, so long as their tanks were filled with Cristal.

Sweets sighed again, for good measure. If only the writers on-episode could get with the program, so the pair's swoony off-episode conduct could get some airtime, and resolve the Unresolved Sexual Tension that not just Brennan and Booth, but millions of viewers were suffering under. "I said, I thought you two had a great series of moments toward resolving all your UST during this episode."

"UST? I don't know what that means." Brennan said. She really did know what UST meant, but she was trying to stay in character. She was actually a major contributor to urbandictionary . com and had been the trivia champion at the bar near her dorm at her undergrad university, all four years. But it made people feel better to think there was something she wasn't good at, so she played dumb on some of the vernacular and pop culture references.

Booth smiled at her, charmingly, playing along as she so cleverly stayed in character. She'd whooped his ass last night at Trivial Pursuit, right before they made slow, sweet love in front of the fire. "It means Unresolved Sexual Tension, Bones." He smirked. They had _no_ UST, off episode. In fact, they had so much resolved sexual tension that the sea chimps were breeding and evolving like crazy, and it hadn't rained, snowed, hurricained, tornadoed, or even been cloudy anywhere in DC for three weeks.

Brennan slyly smiled back. "Ah. Yes. It was a good episode, though I do wish the writers would give me more credit, and allowed me to defend Booth at an earlier point to his brother, the handsome wino bastard. I did think that they made me too dense, overall, and I was worried by how hurt Booth was in the observation room at the Hoover when he asked if I thought he was a loser, and I couldn't answer him properly. I think that my character actually has a better grasp of who Booth is than that, since, after all, I've been complimenting him more and more this season, and had that touching "_you're a wonderful father_" moment in The Finger in The Nest. Plus? Booth? Way more hot than his brother."

Booth stroked his sensitive yet calloused and manly fingers over the back of her hand, as Brennan suppressed the urge to pull him into a deep, passionate kiss, and make mind-blowing love there on the table. "Bones, I thought I was hotter than Jared, too. Plus, I think the writers don't give you enough credit for knowing, deep down, how we both feel. My personal hypothesis is that you know you're in love with me, but don't believe that I could be in love with you, because you trust me on matters of the heart and assume I have a good reason for leaving that #$&#*$*#$^ line in place. Plus, you believe, because of your wounded past, that you're not deserving of love, and so I couldn't possibly love you. Which I do, of course, but the writers don't seem to be moving things very quickly toward that. And, I think they haven't properly dealt with whatever might have been your reaction during those two weeks I was dead. There's a lot of fanfics out there that deal with it nicely, but it would be good to see on the small screen."

Everyone nodded, then swooned. Booth was so perceptive and eloquent. Especially about that #$&%#^*%&^ line.

Angela nodded, and then swooned again, just for good measure. "Oh, Booth, I agree. And while I was glad that Bren kicked Jared's ass at the bar, and got to draw a gun and look all stalky and sexy and stuff as the two of you advanced with your guns on that corrupt sheriff in that drawn-back camera shot, I do think the writers went way too far with Bren's cluelessness. It was almost like her interruptions during that hostage scene were what made her get shot, even though Bren knows better than to distract someone when there's a life at stake. After all, didn't they see The Knight on the Grid, when Bren quietly and covertly crept over and prevented the murderer from blowing his brains out?"

Hodgins nodded. "They also seem to forget that in seasons two and three, Dr. B. saved your life from Gil Lappin, and beat the crap out of that bounty hunter while she was trying to find out where you were being held captive. Plus all that kung fu stuff she got to do the first season, but that they've somehow now discarded as a part of her character. I say, more Dr. B. kicking some serious A." Hodgins knew better by now than to think anything further than generally admiring thoughts about Dr. B.'s badassery. It was like Booth was a mind-reader. Everytime he started to think about how Dr. B. looked today, it was like... oh, shit, he thought to himself, as he felt the heat of Booth's eyes on him. _Drosophila melanogaster_, he thought. _Fruit flies, fruit flies, fruit flies_. The heat of Booth's gaze turned away, and Hodgins looked up again, relieved to have escaped so easily.

Clark, meanwhile, nodded, agreeing silently with the entomologist's opinion. Dr. Hot-Damn would look damned good kicking more ass on the show. Especially if she wore that black lacy top again. Booth shot him a glance just then, though, and Clark shrank, realizing the agent would only tolerate a certain amount of lustful thoughts about his one true love, Dr. Hot- wait, no, Dr. Brennan. Booth regarded him evenly, then nodded approval as Clark shifted his thoughts from Dr. Brennan to his church-going grandma. _Grandma, Grandma, Grandma,_ Clark thought.

Just then, a voice came up the stairs, as the handsome wino bastard Booth's brother came into view. "Well, I'm glad Bones didn't kick more ass this episode. I'd have been in for a world of serious hurt if she did."

The other characters had already turned to hiss and boo and throw hot coffee in levitating coffee cups at the interloper, but Booth was faster, and had Jared pinned, half over the railing that was the only thing separating the lounge from the lab floor far, far, below before anyone else (besides Bones) could have anticipated.

His hand gripping his nowhere-near-as-hot wino bastard brother's throat, Booth gave him that dead cold sexy look he gave that Mara Muerte gang guy back in season one when he had his .45 to the guy's forehead-- then said quietly, "Don't call her Bones." The sea chimps downstairs started singing the theme song from _Shaft_ for everyone to hear, as Booth slowly let his wino bastard brother up, and glared at him until Jared's shoulders sagged, defeated, and he turned and walked back down the stairs. Booth straightened his shirtcuffs, and pulled his suit jacket sleeves down, and turned back to look at the team.

"Hey, Clark. Hand me another bagel, would you?" Booth was, as usual, hungry. Brennan smiled, indulging her Booth's alpha-male behavior by not protesting such a clear expression of overprotective rage. She could hardly protest-- in her heart, she was out of character, and found it incredibly sexy.

Even Clark inwardly swooned, as he pushed the food across the table to the Agent, who re-took his seat next to his brilliant, scintillating Bones. Gee, Clark thought, Agent Booth sure looked good in that suit with the baby-blue shirt. He looked up just in time to see Booth shoot him a wink.

-----------------

After the post-episode wrap up wrapped up, Seeley stroked Temperance's hair back from her sweat-dampened forehead, while the stars still did little choreographed dances in the sky outside her bedroom window. "So, explain to me again the librarian fantasy, Booth?" she said, putting on the glasses from the next episode's promo again. She leaned up on her elbow, shook her hair, and laughed delightedly when he growled "Oh, Ms. Brennan, my book's overdue."


	13. The Passenger in the Oven

Passenger in the oven

(Sweets' voice, heard in narration: We start with an overhead shot, the lounge. The three totally hot main woman characters, plus the inestimable Caroline Julian, are sitting upstairs in the lounge at the table, waiting for the men to arrive. There is soft, natural lighting. Unlike last season, when it was totally clinical. Totally.)

"Mmm-mmm-mmm, that smile on that boy's what's illegal, never mind murder on a damned airplane," muttered Caroline Julian under her breath to Cam, as Angela, sitting on the other side of her, nodded on in agreement. Booth was so hot he was _smoking_ this episode, Caroline thought. Much like that passenger when they opened that microwave oven. She kept that thought to herself, though. That was tacky, not sassy. She wouldn't say that part aloud, as funny as she thought it was privately.

Brennan, sitting beside her friend Angela, merely smiled to herself. She and Booth acted out the glasses-wearing, hair-tossing "Mr. Booth, do you know what the fine is for an overdue library book" fantasy twelve times before this episode aired, but that didn't mean she didn't enjoy watching the episode as Booth, his lean musculature outlined by his close-fitting shirt and pants, advanced on her in the airplane kitchen with that dead-sexy voice and that predatory gleam in his eye as she wore those magnifying eyeglasses. He moved like a panther. Even watching the episode on screen, she could feel the heat rolling off his body as he stood on top of her and told her sultrily to shake her hair down. Plus, she thought her actor was hysterically funny when she did as Booth asked after he was gone, did an internal "_I don't know what that means_," and got back to work. She actually snorted ginger ale out her nose as she watched herself on the episode. It was also simply delightful when Booth licked the ginger ale off her during the commercial break, too. Good thing they had DVR. That ginger ale diversion had taken three hours and spawned a new moon for Jupiter. She loved Jupiter, almost as much as her incredible Booth.

Ange inclined her head toward Brennan. "Sweetie, could you have been any more clueless this episode? I mean, the air was so charged between the two of you on that airplane, and yet even at the end of the episode you persisted in ignoring the sexual chemistry so blatant even a blotto sixteen year old murderer got it. I mean, "_why does everyone always think we're sexually involved, we hardly touch each other?_" Mmm, sweetie, please."

Brennan's face took on a wistful, sad look, as she agreed, whispering lowly to Angela. "I know. I was quite disappointed, really. One would think that someone as otherwise sexually confident as I would see Booth's bolder statements of sexual interest and flirtation for what they really are, and take a ride on the Booth Express, as you once said." Angela stifled her shock, and kept quiet, since Brennan was clearly feeling forthcoming. She wanted to hear what else Bren might say. Clearly she and Booth drank a LOT of champagne on that flight back from China before the post episode wrap-up. Brennan continued. "And did you see how disappointed and hurt Booth looked at the start of the episode when I said my first love was historical remains, and he said "_I thought us working together was your real passion?" _because he thought I didn't want to work with him, or that murder was a distraction? He was a very, very sad Booth, especially when he asked if I was bored, or if I thought "_the spark was gone_." I was glad I had an extended opportunity at the end of the episode to remind him that I _wanted _to be out in the field with him. He got that small sweet smile he gets when I compliment him, like he doesn't expect it. It's darling. And that "_to us_," moment when we clinked glasses? It's sure to make its way into hundreds of YouTube fanvids." Angela smiled, remembering. She was the original and best B/B shipper, after all.

Meanwhile, the boys were heading toward the lounge from the men's room downstairs.

"Dude, an eye mask?" teased Hodgins, as he, Booth, and Sweets made their way past the platform and mounted the stairs.

"You're one to talk, there, bike helmet boy," Booth retorted. He privately reflected that the eyemask _was_ stupid, but at least it wasn't a swirly jacquard one like Bones had. Booth knew what a jacquard weave was. He'd actually taken a historical textiles gut class his senior year in college to round out his second minor in art history.

"Whatever, dude," the bug man replied. That bike shirt actually showed off his chest pretty well. He might be shorter than Booth, but he was not without his feminine admirers. Some ladies liked curly-haired redheads.

Sweets just shook his head. Those madras shorts the costume department put on his actor _were_ kind of dorky. But why should he care? He'd got to mention Daisy, HIS GIRLFRIEND, this episode. God, he loved Agent Booth. And he had a pretty good set of lines about karaoke and his "_beautiful tenor_." He was also happy because finally being integrated as a more, well, not to be redundant, but anyway, integral part of the team. That he'd get called in on a weekend to help solve a case was pretty darn righteous. Although he wondered what the writers were thinking by having him, of all people, suggest karaoke, since the last time he approved a team singing venture, it was the shot that launched ten thousand fanfics and fanvids, some smangsty, some badly written, some one-shot, some extended, but every single damned one of them _PISSED_ that the writers didn't really address the bridge between PITH and WITW, and what happened after the final stairwell scene in WITW. Hell, those two episodes, plus "Aliens" were in the top five episodes, ever, mucho, beacoup, mucho fodder for fandom. Although, last week's already infamous "Con Man"/"TCMITML" episode seemed to be going strong, if the post count at fanfiction dot com was any indication. Damn, those people had a lot of time to themselves. Although... he and Daisy had written three or four variations on the final bus stop confessional, and what happened after, as well as an alternate ending after the penultimate scene with the shooting, where Booth lowers his shotgun, and his eyes meet Dr. Brennan's, and they slowly pace toward each other before Agent Booth sweeps Dr. Brennan into a crushing, manly embrace, as the two pour all their long-suppressed, mutual passion into their kiss, and communicate all their hidden desires in about eighty-five steamboats. That would have been hot, if they'd filmed that scene instead. But no, Hurt/Comfort/Friendship for an ending it was, no Romance/Angst/Smut. Goddamnit. Sweets was not only a B/B shipper, he did enjoy a fair bit of smut. He had a GIRLFRIEND, after all.

The three men mounted the stairs while Sweets was still lost in his alternate-endings reverie, then paused to fix themselves coffee. Booth unloaded the big paper bag he'd been carrying onto the table, and pulled out two homemade coffee cakes, some paper plates, napkins, and some carving knives. "One for me, one for everyone else," he said, cheekily, smiling that smile that should be illegal. Hodgins thought Booth was kidding about those portions, until Booth actually took one whole coffee cake and put it in front of the empty chair next to Brennan. Everyone else exclaimed at Booth's thoughtfulness in bringing homemade baked goods, until he demurred and said, "Nah, Bones made it. I was just being chivalrous, carrying it up from the truck."

Sweets just shook his head as he took his seat opposite the ladies, cup of coffee in hand. He supposed that you could read Agent Booth's express insatiable appetite for food as a suppressed insatiable sexual appetite for Dr. Brennan, especially given the way he explicitly came on to Dr. Brennan this episode, only to have her stare back at him, clueless. Although Sweets admitted, it was really, really, hot, and incredibly cute, when Dr. Brennan tried the librarian thing after Booth left the kitchen. He felt heat on the back of his neck, then, and looked around to see Agent Booth staring at him, from where he was fixing his and Dr. Brennan's coffee. No, Sweets thought to himself, realizing all of a sudden that Agent Booth had "_dirty thoughts about Brennan radar_," what was really, really hot, and really, really, gross, was that cooked body. The heat on the back of his neck turned away.

Hodgins settled down opposite Cam, smiling slightly to himself at the "_cat's away_" interaction between Sweeta and Cam at the start of the episode. Poor Dr. Saroyan. Dr. B. really was Queen of the Lab. And she looked really cute when she was so confused by Booth's librarian comment. Hmm. Booth did move like a panther. Hodgins was comfortable with his manhood. He could admit that Booth looked good in his suit.

Cam watched as everyone settled in, including Booth, who brought over coffees for himself and Dr. Brennan, after taking his time to make sure his partner's coffee was right. "_Cat's away_," her ass, she thought. They wouldn't have solved that airplane mystery without the whole team, including her getting all badass on Caroline there at the end, and telling the stubborn-ass prosecutor to just sign the damned warrant. She had a role on this team, goddamnit. And her physique looked great in that red skirt this episode, too.

Angela looked around, clearing her throat. She had things to get off her chest. "Alright, well, I'll get us started, okay? I wore a long sleeve shirt, and I'm glad to see myself put in my place for being flaky and reboundish by the lovely Roxie, who looks to be, if not a flash in the pan, then perhaps an overall steadying influence on me. I don't know what the romantic future may bring, but it's good, I think, for me to be put in the position of the one not being chased all the time. It may give me something to think about. Also, I'm glad I had some real squinting to do, I mean, '_interpolation software_?' Totally hot, _and_ Hodgie and I had both squinty and Hodgela moments that were satisfying to both procedural and totally shippy fans alike. And, I thought that crack about Hodgins having '_that meerkat look on his face_' was hilarious. I mean, you wouldn't think meerkat at first glance, but I can totally see that."

Everyone nodded. How often did you hear "_meerkat_" on prime time TV, much less have it actually be an accurate descriptor?

Hodgins nodded again. "I'm totally with Angie on this, even the meerkat thing. We had some great back and forth with the solving the mystery aspect of things, and my Nazi haircut grew out again, and I managed not to look suicidally depressed. Although I do think that they've messed up continuity, still. Where was Clark? Or an intern? Is Brennan's Dad supposed to be the new intern? And really, we need to get back to the Zack thing. You can't just have him say he's not the murderer and then leave people hanging like that. I mean, screw the World Series, there are three seasons' worth of fans screaming "ZAACCKKK!!!" at the end of "_Purple Pond_" who deserve resolution to that story arc."

Booth nodded, wisely. "No, I agree with you, much as I feel compelled to give it up for my Phillies, now that I actually know where I come from. It's not fair to leave the fans hanging like that. Although it was nice this episode to get to quote a real, live, federal statute, complete with subsections, and rattle off the Miranda rights as I arrested that kid, racing against time before the wheels on that plane hit the ground. I like doing the cop stuff. Especially since they had me acting like kind of a squeamish little baby there for a bit with all those gross body parts. You'd think after all this time that I'd be less of a sissy about the dead bodies and stuff."

Sweets responded, thoughtfully. "Well, perhaps your aversion to the exposed innards of bodies is an express manifestation of your emotional suppression of your inner demons. So long as you fail to share your fears and concerns with someone you can trust, oh, say, perhaps Dr. Brennan, then you'll continue to act like a patsy around bodies and stuff. Although, yeah, that eyeball bobbing to the surface in the bucket? That was nasty."

Booth thought about giving the kid the Evil Booth Glare for calling him a patsy, but decided against it. As a theory, it wasn't that bad. And Booth was into the psychological stuff, after all. But he wanted the focus off him, for the moment. "Good character actress in that old lady, Charlotte, hey kids?" he said, cutting himself a slice of the coffee cake he helped Bones bake (well, he did grease the pans, that was helping, right?) between getting off the flight back from China and coming back to the lab for the post-episode wrap-up. He hadn't known that Bones won a bake-off in high school, and used the prize money to help pay for college, but this cranberry almond cinnamon crumb coffee cake was _incredible_.

"Mmmph, Bones, awesome coffee cake," he mumbled around his mouthful, unable to help himself. No matter what Sweets thought about insatiable sexual appetites (although, yeah, he had that too), sometimes a guy was just hungry. There was nothing Freudian to it. And this cake? Incredible. Much like his Bones.

Cam looked interestedly at the cake, then cut herself a slice. Before tasting it, though, she said "Yes, I quite enjoyed her, though I do think the writers could have rewarded her assistance with a one-on-one meeting with Dr. Brennan. After all, she was the one who produced that knitting needle that Booth totally stole credit for."

Brennan smiled. "Yes, I thought that was funny. She was quite an aficionada of my work."

Angela frowned. Bren was usually only incorrect on the vernacular phrases, not the hoity-toity ones. "Aficionado, Bren. O."

Booth quickly leapt to his Bones' defense. "Actually, Ange, it's aficionada when the word refers to a female. The 'O' ending only applies to male fans. Kind of like Papparazzo, the male character in the Fellini film. Zo, male singular. Zi, papparazzi, multiple mixed genders. There's an established series of gender specific endings for such words."

Brennan smiled winningly at Booth, leaning over to press a featherlight kiss on his cheek, both for his chivalry, as well as his sexy display of linguistic knowledge. Perhaps she could get him to diagram verbs for her afterward. Hmm. "_Diagram verbs_." She liked that one. She'd have to save that for later, when they played "_young sexy English teacher mad at the football team captain who didn't do his homework_."

Caroline rolled her eyes as the children made goo-goo eyes at each other. "Whatever. I just liked that crack about Booth getting his prostate checked. That had me ROFL, totally. I almost PMSL. And Dr. Brennan had another good line this week, that whole '_accessory to an upgrade_,' remark. Cheries, I almost snorted by coffee." After she said it, though, Caroline wondered. Was that Brennan, or Booth, who said that? It was becoming increasingly hard to keep the two of them apart these days-- it was like they were slowly becoming one, or something.

While Caroline was speaking, Brennan leaned over to cut herself a slice of the coffee cake she'd baked Booth. She turned and whispered to him as he took a sip of his coffee. "You're so incredibly sexy when you're quoting federal statutes, Booth. And you, my dear Seeley, are the _real_ government's special equipment."

Booth, by sheer force of will, kept himself from spraying his coffee all over the table in response to Bones' OOC sexual innuendo. He'd been thinking, beforehand, about how it served that sourpuss stewardess right who'd sent him back to the cattle car to be the one to find that body. Roast pork? Just, eeewwww.

"Yeah, I had a few good zingers myself," he said, when he choked down his coffee. "'_Wow, you really are into murder_,' and the '_pinkish and grossish_' comment, and the thing about not everyone shaking horrible things like murders off, and turning the plane around? Although, sometimes I'm a bit of an asshole to Bones, I think. What do you guys think? Do they make me be too mean to Bones if she's as clueless as they write her to be?"

Sweets pursed his pouty/nerdy/hot lips thoughtfully. "Perhaps. If Dr. Brennan's so oblivious, your comments could be interpreted by the viewer as an outward expression of your frustration that she doesn't see your clear romantic and sexual interest in her-- an angry acting out, as it were. But if she's really that clueless, then her feelings can't possibly be hurt, either, if that's any consolation to you."

Booth nodded again. Damn, the writers were actually making Sweets useful. Perhaps so that once he and Bones finally, eventually, or goddamnit he'd shoot every last f*ing writer and producer otherwise, finally got together on the show, hopefully in a two hour ten o'clock timeslot given over to making slow sweet love in front of the fire, or freaky up against the wall sex, or both, hell, Booth wasn't picky, there were lots of smutty fanfics to choose from (wow, that was a long, run-on digression, he thought to himself), Sweets would have something else to do, besides serve as a foil for everyone's favorite UST-fraught crime fighting heroes.

But instead of admitting it, I mean, come on, the kid's twelve, Booth said instead, "Product placements weren't quite as bad, though there were Apple and Sprint commercials, and no Toyota ones... which makes sense, I suppose, because there were no cars in this episode."

Hodgins looked up, again like a meerkat. "You're right! Booth! That's incredible! You've just proven my product placement conspiracy hypothesis!" The sea chimps downstairs smiled to themselves. They loved it when Hodgins was happy. It usually meant more Veuve Clicquot Grande Dame Champagne. Maybe even Rose this time. They'd have to see if they could vulcan-mind-meld the writers to get Hodgins back with Angela, soon. Then they'd be floating in a _sea_ of expensive champagne.

Everyone smiled to themselves to see Hodgins so happy. Cam, who had yet to speak much, suppressed her chagrin over the whole "cat's away" intro and said, generously, "Dr. Brennan had several fun MacGyver moments on the airplane, much like the Gravedigger episode, where she constructed the materials for the cast of the impression of the murder weapon and constructed a blacklight out of common materials found on an airplane. Though I do wonder about that knitting needle. I thought Homeland Security was more strict about metal implements than that. I do think my retort to Dr. Brennan's complaint about disliking the 'occlusive nature of flesh,' by saying 'just think of it as bone wrapping' was pretty freakin' hilarious, however."

Brennan smiled in response, gracing the pathologist with one of those rare, slow-blooming smiles that she wore when someone complimented her. Cam nearly shuddered with desire in response, seeing for once and for all what Booth saw in his Bones. Those eyes, that smile, that skin. My God, she was perfect. Her intellectual obliviousness was just part of her charm. How could she, Cam, have been so blind? In order to suppress her desire, she took a bite of the coffee cake she'd cut herself earlier, then nearly swooned as the delicious sweet-tart tender crumb of the cake filled her mouth.

"Oh my God, Dr. Brennan, you made this?!?" she mumbled, crumbs falling out of her mouth as her eyes rolled back in her head. Everyone else leaned forward and cut a slice quickly. The fact that Booth had eaten his way through two thirds of his own cake hadn't escaped them. If the cake Dr. Brennan baked was so good as to make even Cam, Dr. B.'s only "enemy" roll her eyes in orgasmic reaction, well, then, there was no way the rest of them weren't going to partake. They all moaned, nearly in unison, as Brennan's cake bowled them over. They all wanted to be alone with that cake. Would she maybe bring in some Mac & Cheese? Eventually?

Booth and Brennan looked on amusedly. Booth thought to himself, "Enjoy my Bones' coffee cake all you want, suckas, because that's as much of my Bones as you're ever gonna get. My Bones. Mine. Hah." Brennan looked at Booth, caught what he was thinking, and rolled her eyes. He was cute when he was feeling proprietary.

When everyone was done stuffing their faces, Brennan resumed the analysis. "I'd like to note that Booth was the one who figured out time of death via his disgusting but useful turkey analogy, as well as how the victim came to be stunned, by applying the composite I made to the handles in the kitchen. Quite excellent, quick-thinking detective work, really. And he was the one to find the missing sim card connection to provide that last piece of forensic corroboration needed for Cam to get all fierce with Caroline. Thanks for that, Cam, by the way." Cam sat quietly, nearly swooning again as the anthropologist threw a quick smile her way.

Sweets was quick to agree with the hot Dr. Brennan, and not just because he'd gotten to help uncover crucial information about motive for murder that made Agent Booth call him the "_man of the hour_" _and_ promise to take him for beer with a rye chaser-- although he still thought that the drinks sounded like they might hurt. Whatever. He loved Agent Booth, because he'd promised he'd get a girlfriend eventually, and he did. "He also got to show his characteristic persuasive half-scary half-sexy powers with the pilot, who agreed to slow the plane down after Agent Booth p0wned him on the DUI info from his past." Sweets then reflected to himself that he did, too, have a mojo, whatever that publisher guy might have said. He had a girlfriend having mojo, madras plaid shorts notwithstanding. Yeah, that's right, he thought to himself. A GIRLFRIEND. Although Dr. Brennan really was stunning.

"P0wned? I don't know what that means," Cam interjected.

"It means Booth totally owned that pilot's sorry behind when he got all federal on his ass, quoting those fines and that sentencing shizzle," chimed Brennan, forgetting momentarily that she actually knew vernacular language when she was OOC. She'd been distracted with the way Booth's hand had been tracing light circles on her thigh, causing flickers of heat to shoot to her center, re-wakening the e'erburning flame of her love for her Seeley. The distraction of her boundless passion and love for her Seeley caused her to accidentally let slip that she'd actually coined more common phrases than Snoop Dogg, the cast of Friends, and Saturday Night Live altogether.

Everyone stilled, looking at Brennan as a one, shocked at the flood-tide of vernacular. She glared back at them. "What? Even I get it, sometimes. Get over it." Her icy blue stare quelled them all into compliance. Cam nearly swooned at the look in Brennan's eye. What she might give to have that look directed at her, personally, even as full of ire as she was. Oh, now she knew what Seeley meant, back in Season Two, when he said "_I'm with Bones all the way, Cam. Don't doubt it for a second_." She wished she could be with Dr. Brennan all the way, too. Was it too late for her?

Booth decided he'd better deflect the attention from his Bones' inadvertent reveal of her actual character, no matter how the writers portrayed her. "I thought I extended the olive branch nicely to Bones when I apologized about her missing her chance to squint at ancient chinese remains. And, I was also pretty damned sexy when I paced back stealthily like a panther from the first class kitchen with that champagne and those flutes." Brennan laughed in agreement, tracing her delicate, sensitive fingers along the stubbled side of his jaw. At her touch, all the remaining coffee cake crumbs levitated off the table and assembled themselves into a small but intact third coffee cake. When it settled on the table again, after Bones stopped stroking Booth's jaw, sending a fire raging in him, everyone attacked the newly-assembled coffee cake.

"Coffee cake cold fusion. Cool," muttered Hodgins, snagging a slice. "These weird physical disturbances are still good for something."

Angela nodded, licking the crumbs from her fingers. "Tell me about it. The way water runs up half the time means my shower curtains never get mildewed anymore. Quite nice, not to have to do that bit of nasty housecleaning."

Booth and Bones merely smiled at each other, while Cam and Sweets sublimated their not so hidden desires for their favorite crime-fighting duo with more coffee cake. Caroline just rolled her eyes and helped herself to more coffee. "Children," she thought, scornfully. Although that publisher man she interrogated? He wasn't bad. And if Max Keenan was going to be around more this season? Well, he was a good looking man, with a Charm Smile almost as good as Booth's. Perhaps she and Max could give new meaning to the phrase "let bygones be bygones." After all, if it wasn't against FBI policy for agents and contractors to eventually get it on, as she sure hoped they would, then it couldn't possibly be against any policy for a prosecutor and her former prosecut-ee (and mmm, he was a cutie) to have some fun, now, could it?

-------------------------

While the main characters wrapped up the wrap-up upstairs, Max Keenan poured more Cristal into the sea chimps' tank. "More spam, fellas?" he asked.

"No thanks, not right now, Max," they replied. "Still working on next week's script edits. Now, we know the trailer says Booth denies that he's sleeping with Bones, but you want to change that, right, and have the next episode be the one where they make slow, sweet love by the fire. Correct?"

Max nodded, smiling. "Yeah. You guys just write up the replacement pages, I'll find a way to slip them into the actors' final scripts for re-shoots. All I need is for you kids to mind meld the writers, producers, and directors long enough for us to capture on film the things our devoted audience has been waiting so long to see."

The sea chimps, as a one, nodded. They were _**HUGE**_ B/B shippers. Like everyone else.


	14. The Fourth Wall in the Fanfiction

The Fourth Wall in the Fanfiction

"The Fourth Wall" is a term used in theater to refer to the narrative device in which the actors on stage evince awareness of the audience's presence, and thereby inject humor, create a new perspective, or invite audience participation. As if this fanfiction piece wasn't meta enough—I invite you to help set the rules for the further installments of this analysis, in addition to the points I've set out below.

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_**Setting**__**: a living room in a third floor apartment in the Boston area, complete with TV and a laptop. Warm, natural lighting reveals a room with hand-me-down furniture from blc's in-laws. blc's long-suffering husband can be heard muttering in the background, "Are you still writing for that website? Again!?!"**_

There's a knock at the door, and blc opens it.

"Hi, Max, come on in," she said, standing aside as everyone's favorite felon slipped in the door.

"Hey, there, blc, good to see you, well, sort of see you," he said, appraising her completely vague face and voice. (Hey, gotta maintain some anonymity here.) She was _there_, though, she had to be. _Someone_ was writing all those fanfics so furiously, and she cast a shadow, so at least she wasn't a vampire, like Angel. (Insert obligatory Angel/Booth swoon here.)

The completely _Bones_-obsessed author motioned the kindly yet fierce Keenan into the living room.

"Max!" chorused three sea chimps in perfect harmony. They were already sitting on blc's sofas, their feet soaking in dishpans of Sofia champagne.

He smiled disarmingly at chimps One, Two, and Three. "Hey, where's Four?" he asked, noting the missing member of our favorite spam-eating, champagne-floating crew.

"Parking the car," said blc, pouring Max a tumbler of scotch and sliding over a plate of homemade snickerdoodles. "The on-street parking around here is terrible. But he'll be up soon."

One, Two, and Three shook their heads. Parking had been a pain, and the apartment wasn't easy to find. Mapquest got it wrong— and blc got it right-- they needed to remember to Google Maps it next time.

"We can get started as soon as Four gets here," the mysterious fanfic author added. Her guests nodded, as the three present sea chimps pattered their feet in their tubs of champagne. "This stuff's actually nice," said Two, admiring the mid-priced champagne that came in a really lovely bottle, as it hydrated his highly-evolved brine shrimp feet.

"Thanks," said blc, ducking her head shyly. She did feel bad about having to offer her fictional creations lesser champagne than what she'd imagined for them, but when you're breaking down that wall between meta-criticism, meta-fiction, breaking the Fourth Wall, and this completely bizarre exercise in self-gratification, it's hard to keep straight whether you're as rich as Hodgins or not. (You're not. If you were, you'd be writing for free for _Bones_, just for the hell of it. You also have a hard time keeping POV straight when you're writing on your third glass of wine. Whatever.) "I picked up a case at Trader Joe's in time for the holidays. Good stuff, decent price, makes a nice gift for people at work." (Hey, that reminds you. You like inserting random "whatevers" into these Character Buildings. Put that one on your list.)

There was a knock at the door, then, and blc hopped up to let Four in, not checking the peephole, because she didn't have one, and in any event, people weren't always out to randomly shoot her, like Brennan. After all, blc didn't have depthless cerulean eyes and long white legs up to here—there was no reason for serial killers to visit her indistinct apartment. And therefore, no reason for Booth to visit, either. (Insert self-pitying whimper here. Oh, wait, I just did. Never mind.)

blc popped the cork on another bottle of champagne and poured it into another dishpan for Four. "Thanks, blc," the sea chimp responded, settling his feet into the tub and letting out an "aaahhh" as the tiny bubbles caressed and hydrated his feet. (If the sea chimps have genders, that is. blc hasn't made up her mind on that, yet. If she is going to make her fictional creations some new superbeing, then perhaps they should transcend gender, like her fictional Booth & Brennan have transcended physics. Readers, what do you think?)

"Okay, crew," the vague female author said. "I asked you to come to help me set the canon for the rest of this critical parody fiction. I've been so incredibly lucky to exceed 140 reviews from my many kind and generous readers, and I want to make sure each week's post episode wrap-up hits all the major points of an episode, as well as some of my personal pet peeves. Since you chimps are my creation, I'm hoping you'll act as my superego to help me flesh this stuff out, and Max, since you're completely unpredictable and probably would have shown up anyway, I thought I'd invite you, and you can stand in for my id."

Max smiled. He _would_ have shown up anyway. He heard blc made a mean snickerdoodle, and it was true. "Well, then, let's get started. Easy things first. Sweets has a girlfriend. Everyone loves Agent Booth, even the men, and he looks good in that suit. My pumpkin has depthless eyes and a boundless heart. Hodgins needs a shout-out every wrap-up, because we think he got a really raw deal this season, and you've got a thing for curly-haired redheads anyway."

blc nodded. "Great. Good place to start, thanks, Max. There will always be something about product placements and advertising tie-ins. I'd like to mention something about how Booth's intelligence/scary badassery is underestimated in too many episodes, and I'd also like to give some feminist shout-out to Brennan or one of the other female characters."

One chimed in, its melodious contralto piping. "Even if you comment on some other feminist point, you should also comment on whether the female characters are inappropriately dressed for a professional environment, mostly because you're a professional yourself, and it's a pet peeve of yours when women come into work looking all hoochie and stuff. Plus, there are lots of really, really cute suits and sweater sets out there. Why they always have to dress Cam and Angela in clingy knits is beyond you, unless it's for sheer titillation."

Two took its turn, its beautiful tenor harmonizing with One's. "You should try to comment on whether the writers were too jokey with the death in the episode. The darker aspects of season one were more in keeping with the justice the main characters are trying to bring to their victims. Having things too lighthearted at the end is incongruous, if not outright disrespectful. There's still plenty of room for banter."

Three waited for Two to finish, then continued in its raspy, sexy baritone, not unlike Booth's. "You should address continuity, because you're just straight-out annoyed at the way the writer's strike and Fox's ordering decisions have made things completely messed up. And you should discuss whether the writers are giving any given character enough credit in an episode, or if they're departing from past characterizations/canon."

Four chuckled, a warm alto not unlike Brennan's. "I've got to say I'm enjoying the completely surreal elements you've injected by our creation and continuing role in the fiction, and I do always wonder what you'll do to display how our favorite on screen non-couple have just broken the laws of physics. And we all enjoy reading what tune you've got us singing this week. We all really like Barry White, Isaac Hayes, and Handel. But… maybe some Abba? Or Jackson Five?"

blc shook her head. "No, I can give you some Abba, some Motown, too. I wonder what I'm going to come up with for the breaking the laws of physics thing every week, though. Sometimes I get really punchy writing these fics. I wondered if the one about LOLcats and unicorns wasn't pushing it a little, but at the same time, I'm a lawyer during the day. I can't really make jokes about hedgehogs and spam and teh interwebz to my clients. But after a glass of wine or two, something usually comes out. And it gets the juices flowing for my smuttier fics."

Two giggled. "She said juices flowing." (Insert blc's inner Beavis and Butthead voice here.)

Three rolled its eyes. (Insert that, too. All Bones fanfics must contain at least one reference to eye-rolling.) "Back to the meta-meta-analysis. There should always be something where Booth is hungry. There should always be some discussion of the writers' failure to flesh in Cam's character. Likewise, some comment on the whole Hodgela debacle."

"Hodgins!" chorused all four sea chimps sadly. They loved Hodgins. We all do. And he looked damned fine in that bike shirt in "_Passenger_."

Max cleared his throat, after knocking back another scotch. "There should be a reference to something about my lovely daughter's tragic and/or mysterious past—either her fear of intimacy, her trips abroad for what? the CIA? NSA? Some other agency? Write something about that while you're at it, why don't you, please?-- her confusion about why Booth put that line there if he was going to just look moonily at her ever after, and/or her continuing fear that people will leave her. I also like how you're letting more of the side characters come in on the post episode wrap ups, I think we add something to the discussion."

blc nodded thanks, then had some more scotch and snickerdoodles. She'd invented the combo in her fic _Serendipity_ just for giggles, but then she actually tried it, and it's really not bad. _Totally_ not bad, to paraphrase Sweets. Her husband still thinks she's nuts, though. He just wants her to make more chocolate pudding. (Yes, she will post the recipe once _Serendipity_ is finished, she promises. Hell, maybe there will be a _Serendipity_ recipe epilogue.) "I need to assuage my inner smut monster by putting something in about B/B's physical longings for one another. And I'm coming to be fonder and fonder of Sweets, even though I found him annoying at first, so I've decided to give him more lines leading discussions, as well as a more sympathetic part in future fanfics. I do think it would be cool for Gordon-Gordon to come back, though, and who doesn't miss Sid?"

"Sid!" chorused the sea chimps. They hung out in his champagne tank at his bar for written-off characters between episodes sometimes. Sully sang them sea shanties while he drank his Mai-Tais, and taught them how to sing shape note hymns. He was a man of many talents, after all, even if he wasn't as handsome and manly and panther-like, and, well, _everything that is good and holy _like Booth. (Except for blc's husband, who is handsome and manly and has the patience of one of Booth's saints and angels.)

Max thoughtfully sipped his tumbler of scotch. "Some comment on the guest starring characters, including stereotypes and just lazy writing would be welcome, as well as continuing comment on the completely shitty, shitty, shitty way they dealt with Zack. Did I mention they've done a shitty job with the Zack arc? Shitty."

blc's green eyes glinted with anger. (Crap, she thought. She just somewhat identified herself. Whatever. Zack's worth it.) "You're right, Max. I like Clark Edison, and would accept him as a replacement, but they need to resolve the Zack arc one way or the other, and get rid of the stupid rotating interns. I don't know if they're going for a Murphy Brown's secretary vibe thing or what, but honestly? It's just annoying. Hodgins needs another male character to play off of in the lab, unless they're going to send him out on more field trips to either snark around with FBI Tech Agent Marcus Geier, or hang out with Booth. Otherwise, it's a total hen-fest, and no way do Hodgins and Sweets have the requisite chemistry for our favorite bug and slime guy's sparkling blue eyes."

"Hodgins!" chimed One through Four melodiously, in total agreement. Zack taught them Handel's Messiah, and visited off episode, and introduced them to _Firefly_ (really, Mal was almost as dreamy as Booth), and Hodgins was so lonely without Dr. Addy. It was a totally raw deal, _totally_, to quote Sweets.

Just then, a throat cleared in the doorway.

blc turned around guiltily. "Uh, hi, honey. We're almost done here, I promise."

Her better half smiled indulgently. "I was going to heat up some leftovers. There's some spam in the pantry. Do your sea chimps want some?"

"Is Booth Catholic?" they all chimed, harmoniously. blc's husband was really, really, handsome, and he looked really good in that rugby shirt. And he was bringing them spam. What a champ.

blc's better half shook his head. "I don't know what that means." (He doesn't. He won't watch the show. He'd rather play video games on the computer. His only fault, really.)

blc clarified. "They would love some spam. Thanks, sweetheart."

Max bounced up to help the fanfic author's husband get the spam and the leftovers. The husband did recognize him, he had a fondness for Max's actor, as well as Alec Baldwin. And blc couldn't begrudge him his fondness for twinkly-eyed middle-aged male character actors, since he, after all, introduced her to hulu dot com, where she first discovered _Bones_, the TV show. Thank goodness for Hulu.

Brennan's father came back with a plateful of spam and some of the leftover zucchini and parmesan fresh herb frittata blc made for dinner the other night. "Mmmph. This is really good, blc. You should have a cooking and nonfiction blog, too."

"I do," she said, modestly. "Although I've been neglecting it a little for this obsessive fanfiction writing. I need to space things out a bit more, spend some more time on my nonfiction writing, cooking, and photography."

"No!!!!" cried the sea chimps in horror. "Not until you finish _Cracked Ice_! And _Center, Unheld_! And _Speed of Love_! And _The Five W's_! And _Pain in the Therapist_!" (Crap, thought blc, I really have a lot of fanfics to finish.)

The author shook her head, ruefully. "You know what? I wrote more chapters for all of those, really, I did, and they're stuck on my old laptop—the power cord and the battery crapped out, and I'm waiting on warranty replacements so I can transfer the contents of that hard drive onto my new one, before I update those fictions. I can't reinvent the wheels on those ones, not while _Release_ and _Serendipity_ are still flowing. Sorry."

One sighed dramatically. "Just… promise us, promise us, that you'll finish them. Please."

blc took a sip of her scotch, thinking for long moments as she searched canon for an appropriate response. She smiled, slowly and almost as mysteriously as Brennan, as she responded, in her somewhat melodious alto, "Don't worry, sea chimps. Everything happens eventually."

_**(Fade out.) (Insert pained groans at obvious "eventually" joke here-- although it worked for Sweets, didn't it?)  
**_

_**------------------------------  
**_

Anything I missed that's a must for each week's post episode re-hash? Speak now, or forever hold your peace. At least until next week's update.


	15. The Bone That Blew a Short Note

The Bone that Blew a Short Note

The characters were all sitting around the table, grinning like idiots and feeling the end of the episode love between everyone's favorite emotionally baggage-laden and stunningly hot crime-fighting characters. "So, so, much eyesex!" squealed Angela, bouncing up and down in her chair, squeezing the holy hell out of Sweets' hand. Damn, Sweets thought to himself, she was strong for someone so thin.

"An experiment! An awesome one! I like Max! I like Wendell!" exclaimed Hodgins, stroking his re-Nazified hair. He still did not like the haircut, however.

"So nice to have Dr. Brennan chill a little on things with her dad," Cam continued, "though I would never really have hired him without checking first if I were writing the episode, I hope you know, Dr. Brennan."

Brennan smiled at the pathologist. Inwardly, the pathologist swooned. Dr. Brennan looked dreamy this episode, and had that interesting artsy fartsy scarf on again that she wore first in the kabuki goth murderer episode. Brennan spoke in her low, melodious voice and said, "Did everyone notice that Booth got to apply special knowledge of cars and car fuels to obtain evidence critical to the investigation?"

Booth smiled proudly, and nodded. "And, kids, major squintitude going on in this episode, including Bones doing that kinesiology squinty stuff that only she can do so well. In fact, with the exception of the larger number of outdoor sets, better lighting, and Sweets' and Cam's presence, this episode reminded me of something that might have aired in S1 or S2, seeing as we actually had a murder that was dealt with in a non-jokey manner for the most part, except for the stupid penis and boobie jokes at the beginning." Everyone nodded. Those jokes were puerile. But funny. They were totally conflicted, the characters all thought, totally channeling Sweets for a moment. But Agent Booth was right—it was like S1 or S2, including the incredibly emotionally fulfilling eyesex moment at the end of the episode.

Max came up around the stairs, smiling and relieved that he got to stay at the lab, and happy that he'd had the opportunity to not-so-subtly tell Booth that if Booth wanted to sleep with his beautiful daughter (and Booth admitted she was beautiful, out loud, to shouts of joy and squeals of rapture by B/B shippers everywhere), and overjoyed that he got to spend more time making things up to his beautiful daughter. "We also had some lovely moments between Booth and my Tempe, with her complimenting Booth on his parenting skills, and Booth being a good, concerned father. And gee, I've just got to say, that actor who plays Parker—he's just adorable." Everyone nodded. They all thought Parker was great, and plus, Booth was _hot_ when he was being a parent. Booth thought he was hot, too.

Sweets, who'd been sitting watching the other characters, sat, his hands steepled in front of his nerdy/pouty/hot lips, looking suspicious. (Did he mention he has a girlfriend? God, he loves Agent Booth.) "Can anyone explain to me why each of us is summing up a major part of tonight's episode in only a few sentences, when normally we'd go on a lot longer? The dynamic of this week's post-ep wrap up is markedly different. Totally. "

Hodgins smelled a conspiracy. No, wait, that wasn't conspiracy he smelled, it was Max's fresh-baked snickerdoodles, which Max was taking out of the toaster oven. Hodgins and Booth both smiled winningly at Max. This was going to be awesome, having Max around. The other characters sat, lost in thought, pondering Sweets' question, as Booth and Jack mowed down on warm cookies.

"You know," ventured Brennan, "there's no logical explanation." She looked deeply troubled, a furrow forming on her perfect alabaster brow. Booth's own brow furrowed, to see his beloved Temperance's expression take on a moue of concern.

Just then, a voice cleared. It didn't come from anyone at the table, and they all looked around, like the muppets on the Muppet Show when the overhead voice would come on during those operating room scenes in the Veterinarian Hospital skits.

"No, up here," said the feminine, relatively melodious voice. The characters all looked up, and said "Oooohhhhh," all at once.

"_Deus ex_ fanfiction" murmured Hodgins, in awe. It wasn't a conspiracy, it was a character-author meta-moment. They were meeting their maker, literally.

"Oh, hey, blc," twinkled Max. "Nice to see you again, honey. Maybe you can clue us in on why we're blowing through this week's episode so quickly?"

The characters around the table stilled. Max knew the author well enough to address her so casually?

The voice came again. "Hi, Max. Please, don't call me honey, my husband gets jealous enough that I'm obsessed with this show. Anyway, my apologies, everyone. Look, tonight's episode was really great, and there's so much to talk about, but…" her voice trailed off, sounding guilty. "Well, I've got six people coming over for Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow, including my dad and my mother in law, and I just don't have time tonight to do this episode justice. I did, however, want to get something posted for my U.K. and overseas readers who like to read this before the episode airs in their time zone, so that they know to look forward to a great episode, since it's going to have to tide us over until the hiatus is over in January."

"January!" groaned all the characters in unison.

"Yeah, that's what I thought, too," said the author, sounding totally miffed. Totally. Wicked miffed, actually. (Now what was she going to do on Wednesday nights? Read? Interact with her husband? Have a social life? Write more smutty fanfictions? Yeah. That last one.) "So, look. I promise I'll make sure you guys have a chance to talk more at length about the high and low points of this week's episode on Friday or Saturday, but right now, I've got vegetables to chop, floors to mop, and turkeys to truss. Sorry, gang."

Cam looked up inquisitively. "Can't you get the sea chimps to help you?"

"blc!" chimed the sea chimps, melodiously. They loved blc. She had Hodgins create them, after all, and they loved Hodgins. (Who doesn't?)

The author chuckled indulgently. "I wish that they could, Camille. But the fact is, in the end, they're fictional characters, and not much help around my real house, when I've got real company coming."

"Don't call me Camille," the pathologist shot, instinctively.

"Don't hire Dr. Brennan's father without consulting her first," the author retorted, protectively. She loved Brennan, being more than a bit of a nerd herself, and she thought it was a really shitty plot device to do that to Brennan-- although it was her only real complaint about an otherwise well-written episode. The pathologist shrank at the chastisement. After all, she agreed with the author, or at least the author had written her as agreeing with her. Whatever.

Brennan smiled up at the author, and Booth smiled too. The author swooned, because their eyesex at the end of the episode was so totally dreamy. Totally. Her swoon was rudely interrupted by a call of "Honey? Where did we put the turkey platter, and the gravy boat?" from the pantry.

"Gotta go, characters. Happy Thanksgiving, and we'll resume this before Monday, I promise."

"Bye! Happy Thanksgiving!" they called. Booth took another snickerdoodle. Thoughts of Thanksgiving made him hungry. And, he looked good in his suit.


	16. The Bone That Blew a Long Note

The Bone that Blew a Long Note

The Sea Chimps were singing-- a melodious and upbeat mix of Abba, Donna Summer, and boppy Motown tunes-- in one corner of the platform, next to some examination tables that had been pushed over to the side. The frame surrounding the platform was decorated with Christmas lights like "_The Man in the Fallout Shelter_," and there was a disco ball hanging overhead that Zack whipped up from loony bin library card bookshelf markers when he found out they were having an off-episode character party. All the main characters, plus favorite recurrent and written-off characters were on the platform, boogying on down to the dulcet croons of the Sea Chimps, who now had opposable thumbs and played some mean sax and piano.

Clark, Hodgins, and Zack were huddled over the punch bowl, spiking the blend of organic fruit juices with 101 proof hooch, something Wendell and Clark whipped up with Hodgins while they were waiting for Zack to be done with the disco bowl. Our favorite fictional uberbrineshrimp stifled a giggle as the hooch splashed into the punch, then segued melodiously into some more Barry White-- because Barry White is the soundtrack to everyone's lovin', not just B/B's.

Booth and Brennan were present, since even fictional characters with limitless sexual stamina recognize that they have some social obligations. The two were dipping and twirling and laughing, so clearly in love that everyone within ten feet of them swooned, then swooned again just for good measure. There was a lot of swooning going on, suffice it to say.

Just then, Sid came onto the platform, pulled Wong Fu's takeout and a limitless supply of special-delicious-pies from the extra dimension inside his leather jacket, then set the food out on the table. B/B weren't the only characters who could break physical rules, Sid thought. At least since the Sea Chimps helped him hone his already-nascent mind-reading abilities, and then showed him some Star Trek time/space continuum tricks. Because really, how else did he know what everyone wanted to eat?

"Sid!" everyone cried, then stormed the table, eager for something other than diner food. Sully, who'd been dancing with Cam, and Jack, who'd been dancing with Angela (Hodgins! swooned the Sea Chimps to themselves, because they were _huge_ H/A shippers), both rushed the banana cream pies, shooting looks over their shoulders to see if Booth would threaten to shoot them for honing in on Sid's pie. The G-Man, however, was still dancing with Brennan, the two of them moving in sync and gazing deeply into the eyes of their partner.

Most of the characters were surprised that Booth wasn't first at the table for food, but Sid nodded sagely to the Sea Chimps as they all communicated telepathically. "_The only thing Booth's more hungry for than food is the lovely Temperance_," Sid thought, and the Sea Chimps communed back. "_And, Agent Booth's hot_." Sid nodded agreement. Booth _was_ hot.

A throat cleared overhead, and the characters all looked up, still startled by the deus ex fanfiction.

The semi-melodious alto spoke. "Hi, guys. Enjoying yourselves?"

Everyone nodded and smiled. They loved off-episode parties that their authors wrote for them to attend.

"Is it time to complete the wrap-up on _Bone that Blew_?" asked Cam, now clad in a flattering long-sleeved blouse and form fitting, yet professional skirt that showed off her fabulous gams. She smiled, finally warm, then reflected that perhaps the reason she was such a ball busting b*tch on the show was just because she was cold.

blc answered. "Well, I was hoping so, I've got some other fanfictions to write, I was hoping to work on ch. 68 of Serendipity later, but if you guys want to party some more, I can come some other time."

"Nah, we're all cool," Hodgins answered, blue eyes twinkling. "That is, as long as we get to come back down and party some more once the wrap-up's wrapped up."

"Absolutely," the author replied. "Especially since so far this season there's been no sign of the holidays."

Booth and Brennan had finished their dance, and now were looking up into the skylights along with the rest of the characters. "Yeah, I was hoping to see Bones in that Wonder Woman costume again." He then shot Sweets an Evil Booth Glare when he heard Sweets think "_Dude, we all were_." Sweets shrank, then concentrated on thinking about something besides Dr. Brennan.

The characters all began trouping upstairs, though Sully, Zack, Clark and Wendell stayed behind with Sid to make inroads on the food and to spike the punch further. Caroline Julian stood over in the corner with the Sea Chimps, conferring on what other Motown tunes to sing next. Daisy was still not allowed in the lab, much to Sweets' chagrin, since he would have loved to dance with his GIRLFRIEND in front of everyone, but she did bust a skull into like, a million pieces in _Skull in the Sculpture_, so Sweets figured Dr. Brennan wasn't really being unreasonable. Clark was also wondering if blc would let his girlfriend Amelia from _Serendipity_ come visit so they could go make out in the Egyptian exhibit while the other characters did their wrap-up. Just like that, Amelia appeared on the platform, and Clark shot a charming wink and salute up at the skylight. "Thanks, blc," he mouthed.

Meanwhile, the rest of the characters were mounting the stairs. "No Thanksgiving, either," Angela grumbled, sitting down at the table with a container of takeout and a pint glass of potent hooch-spiked punch. Hodgins smiled to himself as he set down two pitchers of punch on the table, as well as the rest of the banana cream pie. Sweets promptly sat next to him, and the two of them picked with their forks at the pie for the rest of the wrap-up. Max filled up pint glasses of liquid courage for everyone, flitting around the table until everyone was served, then poured a glass for himself. That last episode was rather exhausting for him. He did lots of pained and concerned eye-crinkling, at least.

Angela picked at her takeout, then took a long swallow of punch. She needed a drink. She'd been practically naked the last episode with those stupid sleeveless tops, Cam too-- at this point she was just PISSED about all the sexuallized pandering. "At least some fanfic authors gave us Thanksgiving, lots of warm and fuzzy ones, too."

"I hope we get Christmas," Brennan said softly, gazing warmly at Booth as he took the seat next to her, then twined his long masculine fingers in the silken auburn strands of her hair at the nape of her neck. "Now that we know Booth has an unhappy family life, and my family's all out of jail, perhaps we can have an episode where I comfort Booth and invite him to eat with my family as we all learn the true meaning of Christmas. And maybe Booth and I can kiss on-air again."

"I'd like that," Booth said, gazing warmly at the love of his life, a paragon of all that was good and kind, an exemplar of womanhood. And amazing in the sack, too. "Unfortunately, though, it looks like that's not in the cards, based on the upcoming episode spoilers I found online."

Every character frowned, exchanging unhappy looks. The goddamned Gravedigger was going to be back, and there were at least three different spoilers, none of which seemed to make sense.

Hodgins articulated the group's feelings aloud, frowning, his voice gruff and cranky. "Yeah, man, WTF? Goddamned Gravedigger. And who's this Agent Peyton Perrotta chick they're threatening to make into a love interest for you?"

Booth shook his head grimly, while his hand remained firmly at Bones' neck, hoping to reassure her of his undying horndog affection and love. Though off-episode, they'd just been secretly married by his parish priest, they were both really stressed about these upcoming episodes, the "_wake up naked in bed together_" one notwithstanding. Brennan's depthless blue eyes were glimmering pools of emotion, but she gave Booth a grateful look as he reached over with his other hand to pull her into a tender, soft kiss, the warm press of his lips on hers filling the insecure voids in her soul. When their lips parted, the other characters having somehow missed the intimate interaction, she cleared her throat and made her thoughts on the matter clear.

"If I have to cut a b*tch, then I will." Her tone and look brooked no contradiction.

Everyone, even Booth, stilled. They all remembered how wild-eyed and violent Brennan got during '_Killer in the Concrete_' when Booth went missing, and then the way she practically went medieval on the guy who killed Andy's mother in '_Baby in the Bough_.' None of them had any doubt that as apesh*t as Booth would get if Brennan were ever seriously hurt, Brennan would be a hundred times worse if she snapped.

"_Girl has a bad temper_," Ange thought to herself. "_That's so hot_." Ange wasn't the only one thinking so, though they were still more than a tiny bit afraid of Dr. Brennan.

Everyone was grateful then, when Booth brushed a strand of Brennan's hair from her face and then caressed her strong but beautiful jawline with his thumb. "Me too, Bones," he said softly, looking deeply into her eyes. "I'll let you borrow my special ops knife, too." He meant it. He recalled his own terror at that promo the writers clipped together for that first episode featuring Wendell, though it all came out fine in the end. His promise assuaged her, and the heat of her anger cooled to mere warm, undying passion for her fierce, passionate Booth.

Cam was still a little ill at ease-- it was a good thing Dr. Brennan hadn't gone medieval on her ass back when she was sleeping with Seeley. She looked down then, and reassured herself by waving at Sully. Peanut was a really good cop nickname for him, she reflected. He was no Booth, but then, sometimes even Booth was no Booth. Damned inconsistent show writers. It was a hard shift between Hot but Goofball Uncouth Booth and Studly Saint Self-Sacrifice Seeley. But Peanut? He was great in the sack. No wonder Brennan had a bit of trouble deciding whether to go or to stay.

"There were two rather obvious incongruities," Angela noted, deciding to get the post-episode wrap up really going. "First, how were those doofuses with the chainsaws at the start planning on getting that 80 foot walnut out of there once they'd cut it down? That's a lot of tree. Did they have oxen or ATVs with chains hidden somewhere out of the camera frame? Because no way do you just pick a trunk up off federal land and drag it out under your arm."

People nodded, agreeing-- it was a dumb intro. The casting director and writers were dragging the bottom of the doofus-excuse-to-find-a-dead-body barrel.

"And second," Ange said, looking meaningfully at Cam, "how on earth did Cam know all that stuff about the victim when just one sentence before she says "_Excellent, I'll check email_?" Is she some kind of super-fast reader? She didn't even look at the screen before she rattled off those lines. They could as easily have just had her bring up the screen with a '_look what I found just before you came in_' introduction."

Everyone nodded, agreeing again. "It seems like just sloppy writing," said Cam. "And I still think the boobies joke at the beginning is peurile. The writers make Booth look like a boor, sometimes, when everyone knows he's just a strong, kindhearted guy with the weight of the world on his shoulders, an unrequited love for Brennan, and a really hot bod."

Booth nodded. He didn't like being written as a goofball, or as uncouth, like that episode a few months back when they had him either licking his plate or wiping his mouth with his tie in that scene with Sweets-- he couldn't quite tell, though, that scene was cut kind of weird. But Cam was right about his essential character elements, and he _did_ have a really hot bod. At least Bones thought so, what with her orgasmic call of "Oh my God, Booth! You have such a hot bod!" while they had passionate, gravity defying, multi-hour sex on the top of the Washington Monument. That was cool. And the way that the water in the reflecting pool turned rainbow colors each time their bodies came home to each other? That was cool, too. And then when the Sea Chimps serenaded them with Ray Lamontagne songs? Yeah. Awesome.

Max spoke up then, delighted to be part of the cast on a more regular basis, as well as because he had some really substantive things to add. "Okay, kids, a couple of things. First, Booth, I'm really sorry that the writers caused that flickering brow-wrinkle of pained longing or whatever that was to pass over your actor's face after I asked if you were sleeping with my Pumpkin. While I do think your characters need prodding to get it on with each other, I thought the conversation they wrote was really inappropriate. Although it was nice to hear you say aloud, ever so seriously, "_Bones is beautiful_." There were Angela squeals all over the country, I heard."

Booth answered in his warm, comforting baritone. "Hey, thanks, Max. No hard feelings about the conversation, although I'm going to want you to come over and mop up all the soda Parks exploded in my kitchen last night. I'm glad you'll be around to enrich him, and that your involvement in my son's life will apparently provide me with more opportunities to have more eyesex and You-Tube worthy shared smiles with my beautiful, fascinating, scintillating, and yet contradictorily shy Bones." Everyone swooned. Booth was so understanding and sensitive.

Max nodded, relieved. Booth was the only person on the show besides his sweet Pumpkin he was afraid of. Between the two of them, though, he'd pick Tempe as the one not to piss off the most. Girl _did_ have a temper, he was worried she was going to shiv Veleska Miller for a bit there, and that would have been trouble, since it was Max's job to shiv people. If his Tempe turned into a shiv-wielding badass, there would be no need for his character. Setting that thought aside for the moment, however, he turned to his daughter, a sincere look on his charming sociopath face. "And Tempe, I hope you know, sweetie, that after sticking your neck out like that for me at your murder trial, I would never, never, dream of pushing my way into your workplace or personal life. You've earned the right, and more, a thousand times over, to choose on what basis I have any kind of relationship with you, and for the writers to think that this is the right way to introduce me as a complicating or even UST-resolving character, well, I just don't think it makes sense."

Brennan smiled slowly and sweetly at her father, the light of her countenance nearly blinding the rest of the hcharacters. _How does Booth get any work done if she smiles like that around him_, they all thought. They'd all be _hummina-hummina-hummina_ _stutter drool faint_ if she smiled like that at them on a regular basis. Maybe Booth _was_ a god, if he could withstand that illuminating, innocent smile and not grab Dr. Brennan and kiss her passionately. "Thanks, Dad," she said in her melodious alto. "I don't appreciate the fact that the writers have whipsawed me this season between openly appreciating Booth and being in touch with my feelings, and then having me be all hesitant and uncomfortable with you and even sometimes with Booth. It's just not consistent-- I'm so out of character with myself, sometimes in the same episode. It's rather disturbing. I also thought it was inappropriately manipulative for them to have you eliciting the rainbow story in front of a room full of child characters. You would think you would have enough respect for my professional competence to not try to rebuild our relationship right in my workplace."

Everyone nodded in agreement, thinking quietly about how that whole setup was manipulative and out of character for Cam and for Brennan as Max got up and poured everyone some more hooch-spiked punch.

Attempting to lighten the mood, Angela said, "Can someone explain to me why Booth always looks like he hasn't shaved in a day or so these days? He was always so clean-shaven in season one, and now he's sometimes almost rather unkempt looking."

Brennan shook her head. "I liked the longer parted hair Booth had in season one, and I must admit, with my fair skin, the amount of stubble Booth wears now would cause me significant beard burn were he ever to kiss me. I say bring back the haircut, cleanshaven, well-suited Booth in a variety of styles and colors from season one, although we all like the shirtless and tight shirt scenes from season two onward."

Booth laughed, remembering the way Max said "guns of steel," at the start of the episode. He was sick of the black suits, but he didn't really care about the rest except for the beard burn part. Bones was awfully sensitive, maybe he should buy some new razors. Maybe the producers were waiting for a male beauty care products product placement before they let him shave better. But still-- it was a little weird for an FBI agent to walk around with such artfully cultivated stubble. You'd think someone would have said something to him about his appearance.

"And... there were some outright mistakes and continuity problems," Sweets added. "They had Dr. Hodgins call Max Keenan '_Max Brennan_,' and they had Cam say that Dr. Brennan's killed one person when it's actually two."

Everyone thought, then Max said, "Yeah... that's stupid. Don't they watch the past episodes like the show's fans do?"

"Any short things to add?" asked Brennan.

"Booth got to do the cop talk thing with the CODIS database reference and the in-plain-sight search of the gas tank, and I got to apply computer and architectural know-how to find out where Cal Warren lived." Ange said. "And... Wendell was cute this week, going along with Cam to try to get Jack to do an experiment, and being all earnest with Brennan while also being funny with his random but relevant pieces of trivia. He's no Zack, but he's okay."

"Bren gave Sweets an awesome dirty look at the diner when he sat down with them at the counter," Ange added, smiling. "Gotta say, Sweets, you were pretty twerpy this episode."

Sweets nodded, agreeing. "You'd think by now I would learn to be more subtle in my interactions with Dr. Brennan, and not push her, as Agent Booth said, but instead, I seem to still fail to see that she's a sensitive, complex, tortured soul who requires easing along to emotional realizations-- and that if I try to hammer them home with her, it will just be counterproductive. Plus, I know she has no respect for psychology, so I should learn to couch my advice in more logical, empirical propositions, so that I might possibly get through to her. But no, they continue to have me misunderstand her character. It will be totally wretched if they have me try to get all hinky and experiment on her again-- she'd be totally right to annihilate me. Totally."

Brennan smiled slowly. "Thank you, Dr. Sweets. You're so much more reasonable, off-episode." Though it would be fun if she got to kick his butt on the episode. She was still pissed about _'Pain in the Heart_.'

Max had been looking thoughtful, and spoke. "I was a little confused by the '_I didn't ask for a favor_,' and '_Sometimes you don't need to ask_' interaction between my Pumpkin and Booth while they were searching that victim's apartment. You would think that Booth would be more understanding of why Tempe was upset, and also know that Tempe would be reasonably affronted by her nominal boss hiring her father without consulting her. I just don't think Booth would think what Dr. Saroyan did was a favor."

Hodgins scratched his weird beard. "I think you're right, Max. That was kind of hinky."

Brennan smiled at the show of support from Dr. Hodgins. She always wished that the writers would do more with their two characters-- there was the possibility of them being low-key, but attached friends-- after all, you don't get buried alive with someone and not have a deep bond. Plus, she thought that perhaps Jack might be a good way for the writers to confront Booth about telling Brennan how he feels-- perhaps he could even tell Booth in a flashback sequence about how upset she was during between _WITW_ and _PITH_. She thought Booth would listen to Hodgins, especially when it came to talking about her.

"What did we think about Booth's angst over Parker going to private school?" Brennan asked. "I thought my comments were unecessarily awkward-- I could have gotten my points across in one conversation, rather than keep coming back to it in a way that caused Booth more insecurity, and that adorable but worrisome brow-furrowing thing that he does. One conversation between Booth and I and then his follow up with Sweets would have been sufficient, followed by our lovely moment on the catwalk at the end where we talk about enriching his son as an ongoing project into the indefinite future. And at least I got to tell Booth that Parker is a "_wonderful child_," and that Booth "_shouldn't feel inadequate_" about the way he was raising him."

Booth nodded, agreeing. He stroked his masculine thumb along his beautiful Bones' chin, looking into her eyes before he spoke only to her, huskily. "I agree, Bones. And it just means so much that you'd do me a personal favor, since my son is the only other thing in my life as important as you."

Everyone swooned, then swooned again for good measure. Booth and Brennan were totally dreamy when they had eyesex and Booth touched her so tenderly, while Brennan stayed still, gazing back and not running away despite her near-all-encompassing fear of abandonment. Totally dreamy, just, totally, thought Sweets again, for good measure. The Sea Chimps downstairs swooned, too, then started singing Peter Gabriel's '_In Your Eyes_' in soft four-part harmony. Everyone swooned all over again, each thanking goodness that Hodgins invented the Sea Chimps. They were part Greek Chorus, part silly artifice, and they had good taste in music. Because come on, who doesn't love '_In Your Eyes_?'

"Those kids were sure little shits, and that mother just gave me the chills, not to mention that little girl. Every hair stood up on the back of my neck when she confessed to that crime," Hodgins noted. "I mean, not every rich kid grows up to be a self-centered sociopath. But that little girl, she made my skin crawl."

Cam reached over and patted his hand, then spoke some more. "I agree, Dr. Hodgins, not all rich people are horrible, and that father was a redeeming factor, for sure. At least this episode's murder involved serious interpersonal and societal issues, with a morally ambiguous ending that forces the audience to think, rather than swallow some jokey, pat murder whole."

Max changed the subject as the characters' mood became rather grim. "That Gina Torres guest star, boy is she a great actor, and easy on the eyes to boot. I just loved her in _Firefly_."

Cam nodded. "She was great, it's too bad we don't have more character actors like her as guest stars-- although I noticed she seems to be far thinner than when she was on everyone's favorite Space Western Comedo-Melodrama."

Booth spoke, agreeing. "She did look a little skinny, but geez, she was just great on that show, and she's the second actor from _Firefly_ to play a significant part in an episode."

Everyone looked confused for a moment. "Wait, who was the other one?" asked Hodgins. He considered himself quite a _Firefly_ aficionado, and while he was more of a Kaylee than a Zoe fan in the end, Zoe _was_ ferocious and gorgeous and sassy, all qualities that are important in the best female TV show characters. That he couldn't place who the other _Firefly_ guest star was had him wondering, and doubting his own devotion to the Whedon-verse.

Booth paused for a moment, letting the anticipation build. After all, his actor gained his fame and fortune from not one but two Joss Whedon shows, and he was a producer on _Bones_ now. It was fitting that his actor would make sure that Joss Whedon's stable of actors got work when he could throw it their way. As everyone looked at him, he said "Jayne played Jamie Kenton."

"Duuuude," breathed Sweets and Hodgins at the same time.

"But... the hair color? And Kenton wasn't as buff as Jayne was..." muttered Sweets.

Hodgins shot him a look. Maybe the kid was okay, after all. Wow. Kenton was Jayne. Or Jayne was Kenton. Whatever. No _wonder_ he looked so familiar. That had been bothering him ever since that episode aired. Come to think of it, Booth looked familiar, too. Weird. It smelled like a conspiracy. The Sea Chimps, reading his mind downstairs, thrilled. They loved helping Hodgins solve conspiracies.

"IMDB it if you don't believe me," Booth said, smiling indulgently. He was a _real_ alpha male. He wasn't ashamed to admit that Captain Mal Reynolds (whose actor was another _Buffy_ alum) looked great in those boots and that duster.

Booth suddenly noticed that his sensitive Bones had stilled and become silent next to him as he uttered the words "Jamie Kenton." While everyone else still marveled at the _Bones_/Whedonverse overlap, he turned his chair toward her, then noted her hands in her lap were trembling minutely. He cursed himself inwardly, then took one of her hands in his own, and leant over to say "Shh, Bones, I got you, it's alright, I got you." The Sea Chimps downstairs swooned at the mini-reenactment of one of B/B shippers' favorite moments in the entire series, then swooned again for good measure. Booth and Brennan were totally dreamy. They loved _Two Bodies in the Lab_, it was their favorite episode, hands down. Or maybe the one where they found Brennan's mother. Or the _Man in the Morgue_. Gosh, it was so hard to choose.

She squeezed his hand back, took a deep breath, and smiled quaveringly back. She still had nightmares of being fed to those dogs, and Booth's innocuous reference to the actor who played Kenton nevertheless brought everything back. She concentrating on calming her outward demeanor, welcoming the warm firm feel of Booth's hand enveloping her own. He had saved her, and she had saved him. They saved each other, she thought to herself. Still, she felt a little bit shaky, so she held on to Booth's hand.

Meanwhile, Hodgins and Cam were recounting the adorable banter between them when Hodgins announced his findings while he got away with calling her '_anal_,' though they both agreed Cam was written to be more than a bit of a b*tch at the end of that scene. Angela smiled to herself, enjoying the fact that Jack had lots of good moments during the episode, in which he was his usual lovable curmudgeonly self. She was still a big H/A shipper, and wanted them to get back together desperately, but for now, she would settle for seeing Jack getting lots of good lines. But if Cam slept with Hodgins, she thought grimly, Brennan wouldn't be the only one '_Cutting a b*tch_.' Ange could be an alpha-female, too. Instead of voicing those thoughts, however, she merely said "I was loving the fact that they're bringing Parker on the episodes more, he's so goldarned cute."

Max noted that there were Blackberry, Toyota, and Macintosh product placements, then said "Gee, Angela, that was some great re-creation of the displacement vectors during that windstorm."

Angela smiled back, then said, with a mischevious glint in her eye, "And there was some great Booth/Bones banter in the scene with the sportscar, including Bren's cute inquiry about '_urinating as an act of vandalism_' and then how she looked like she kinda hoped Booth would actually do it, as well as the hotness that was Booth with an open-collared shirt and that suit. It's so sexy when a man undoes his tie."

Max shook his head, laughing. Even he thought Booth looked hot in that suit. In a fatherly, purely platonic, "_You're a good man, I want that for her_," kind of way. Encouraged by Angela's inclusion of him into the group, he said, "And once again, my Tempe figured out the perpetrator of an unwarranted murder by her analysis of the relative kinesthetics involved in creating the damage found on the body."

Everyone smiled, glad that Dr. Brennan was getting to show more of her mad thinkin' skillz this season. She'd spent too much time out of the lab in some episodes, but the writers seemed to be finding a balance, finally.

No one really noticed that the two partners were having a tremulous, meaningful moment as Booth tried to make up for the fact that he'd reminded Bones of a traumatic event he still had nightmares about by holding her hand in his and trying to reassure her silently with the loving gaze in his warm brown eyes. The Sea Chimps noticed, but wanted to leave them their privacy, so they refrained from singing the Dolly Parton version of '_I will always love you_,' because while everyone loves Dolly Parton, right then wasn't the time to call attention to such an intimate moment.

Angela chimed in as the characters all still failed to notice how the partners had drawn apart from the rest of the team, the only real comfort each of them had in this large, scary world. She and the rest were once again focused on the end of the episode. "How double-laden was it when Bren said '_sometimes it's hard to appreciate what you've got_' to Booth? And all those intercut _looks_ they kept giving each other while Booth was asking her to do him a favor. .God."

"Totally OMG," interjected Sweets. "Totally." He and Daisy totally Angela-squealed at their apartment after Booth's "_look at my little boy and your Dad_" comment.

Hodgins smiled in recall. "And that smile Dr. B. gave the G-Man. The Mona Lisa's got nothing on her. And the way Booth was all open and sharing about his insecurities for Parker. So many leaps forward this episode, all because Booth knows ever since _Con Man_ that Brennan won't think any less of him if he admits to being vulnerable every once in a while. This one may be even better than _Con Man_ or _Finger in the Nest_, I don't know, it would be hard to call it."

The characters began bandying back and forth their favorite B/B scenes from all three and a half seasons so far, finishing off the pitcher of punch and making their way back down to the platform on increasingly wobbly legs. Wendell looked up, smiling as the majority of the characters descended the stairs, then spiked the punch again as Zack stood guard. Maybe if he got Dr. Saroyan drunk, he put his tapeworm in her tapline. She was hot. Not as hot as Agent Booth, but then, really, who was, besides Dr. Brennan?

-------

Upstairs, the two partners sat side by side, until everyone returned to the platform.

"I'm sorry, Bones," Booth murmured, stroking Bones' still trembling hand and then pulling her out of her chair to come sit in his lap on the couch at the back of the lounge.

"It's alright," she said with a tremulous smile, then sighed as his warm arms folded around her.

"Still," he said, kissing her temple. They sat in silence, Brennan resting her head on Booth's shoulder, as they listened to the highly-evolved brine shrimp resume serenading the team. They exchanged a few long, tender kisses that set the overhead lights flickering, until Brennan sighed again and kissed Booth's cheek. She stood, then, and made to leave the lounge.

"Let's go downstairs and socialize a little while longer, and then we can go home, husband," she said, preceding Booth down the stairs.

"Heh. She said husband," Booth murmured, then smiled as he looked overhead and gave the _'guns up'_ hand signal to blc.

"You're welcome," she murmured. Dang, Booth was hot.


	17. The Night Before Christmas in the Fanfic

Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the lab  
The Sea Chimps were cleaning, singing dancing and glad.  
See, Jack brought Champagne, and Max brought them Spam,  
So now they could think about finding some nookie for Cam.

Booth and Brennan were snuggled in their rosepetal-strewn bed  
Murmuring and nuzzling and making love as their mood led.  
The moon rose up backwards, and the Sea Chimps did croon,  
Laws of physics were made to be broken in Booth & Brennan's bedroom.

When at Hodgins' mansion roof there arose such a clatter,  
he sprang from his bed to see what was the matter.  
Away to the window he tore like a phosphorescent flash  
Threw open the shutters and pushed up the sash.

The B/B lovin' moon was pink and shone on the snow  
Giving everything 'neath it a roseate post-coital glow.  
When to Jack's wondering eyes should appear  
But a mini white limo pulled by eight written off character reindeer.

The limo's jolly snowy-haired passenger, so lively and quick,  
stuck his head out and called, "Hey, Jack, man, come quick!  
Come for a ride, dude, we've got a season to save--"  
so Jack jumped from his window, a possible reunited H/A making him brave.

Now Cullen! Now Sid! Now Zackarooni and Wyatt!  
Now Sully! Now Tessa! Now creepy David and Pete!  
To the Fox Studios, Pico Boulevard, Century City we go!  
Now fly away, fly away, with emissions controls! (It is California, after all.)

"When written off characters at the whims of fickle writers fade  
When continuity is meaningless to young writers underpaid,"  
the jolly man warned Jack to nonetheless "fight past despair"  
and hied them to Hollywood, a beloved show to repair.

The white limo drawn by old boyfriends, ex girlfriends, old bosses, barmen and shrink,  
made its way then to retrieve the team for a needed a group think.  
"To Booth and Brennan's!" the white haired mystery man declaimed--  
Jack's eyebrows shot up in shock, but from comment refrained.  
In the world of strained holiday poetry, blc would explain.

As the limo did hover at our fair heroes' second floor,  
Jack gaped in astonishment and knocked his head on the door.  
For what did his twinkling blue eyes see and his squinty mind instantly grip,  
But our two heroes breaking the laws of physics!

"Hey Booth! Hey Brennan!" Jack called from the lowered-down glass,  
then thought to himself, boy does Dr. B have an amazingly nice ... _fruit flies, fruit flies, fruits flies._  
The two lovers uncurled from their embrace as Jack strove to explain,  
"This jolly dude here's going to resolve our beloved characters' pain."

In a twinkle, Booth-Brennan dressed and alit into the car,  
smiling and drinking all the scotch in the limousine's bar.  
Brennan smiled at Jack and said in a low, melodious tone,  
"Let's go get Angela next, I know she's at home."

The written-off reindeer then to Angela's flew  
because it's my poem, she and Roxie were through.  
"Angie, baby, come on!" Jack called with a shout,  
and Ange, in a funky but weather-appropriate jacket, came running out.

"Hodgie!" she cried, and then gave him a kiss.  
"Who's the cute twinkly whitehair? He's too cute to miss."  
Jack, Booth and Brennan, the little old dude rolling eyes did exchange,  
Some things like Angela's flirting never would change.

"Let's go get Cam, and then Sweets," the manly Booth did suggest,  
and the twinkly old guy agreed, while admiring Booth's chest. (Who wouldn't?)  
Hodgie and Angie scooted off to a corner to snuggle,  
While Booth Brennan held hands, hiding their love no longer a struggle.

The white limo then hovered outside Cam's townhouse,  
as the white haired old gent called "Camille, it's time to go out!"  
"Don't call me Camille," the pathologist said in return,  
but shrugged on a coat and climbed in, leaving no time to burn.

She raised one arched eyebrow as the two couples did snog,  
then turned to the twinkly-eyed gentleman, somewhat agog.  
"I take it we're off to Hollywood, where all dreams can come true-oh,  
and maybe, just maybe, I'll be not one, but part of duo?"

"Very clever, there Cam," said the man with a wink.  
"We've just got one last stop, to pick up the shrink."  
Everyone groaned, and Jack said "why does he have to come?"  
But the old man looked stern as he said "he's got a big online fandom."

The limo hovered outside, as Wyatt-Reindeer exclaimed,  
"Ho, there, replacement, we've got writers to train!"  
Then Sweets in his madras plaid shorts, looking like kind of a nerd,  
Hustled out to the limo, so stoked that the team would want his voice to be heard.

"So what's the plan here," asked Cam of the white-haired old guy.  
"Do we have a wish list, a game plan, a bevy of ideas we should try?  
Or maybe, just maybe, we should just find some way for the writers to die?"

Booth looked disapproving,  
Dr. Brennan looked sad,  
the old guy looked thoughtful,  
Sweets just thought the whole thing was totally rad. Totally.

Hodgins and Angela were still kissing, and thinking about getting laid,  
when Dr. B cleared her throat and said "there's a list already made."  
Everyone looked stunned, astonished, amazed,  
Then let out long "Oooohs," when Brennan said "We just need to see what this fic's reviewers have said!"

"I have no printer, no wireless in this not-so-magic limo," the little man groaned.  
"Does someone remember the comments whose ideas were so thoughtfully honed?"  
Booth stroked his chin, and Hodgins did too.  
The girls bent their heads, and Sweets thought things through.

"blc, can you help us?" Sweets finally requested.  
The deus ex fanfiction's voice obligingly manifested.  
"Yes, Sweets, yes Cam, yes Hodgela, yes Brennan and Booth?  
Is there something you need? Some sarcastic truth?"

Angela smiled then answered, her soft brown eyes twinkling--  
"We're on our way to Hollywood, to give those writers an inkling.  
This cute twinkly old gent's been so kind as to give us a ride,  
in a limo pulled by some characters whose loss is decried.  
We're trying to remember all the things we'd like to see,  
both in S4 development, and wrap up from season three.  
We know there were great comments in Character Building,  
but we don't want to mischaracterize or engage in lily-gilding."

"I think I can help," came the writer's semi-melodious voice,  
"And I appreciate your asking, it really is nice,  
for someone, if not the writers, to consider fans' voice."  
There was a pause as she thought, which made each character consider  
what made sense in the canon, not just some scene sold to the network's ad revenue bidders.

Clearing her throat, the author began. "Here are my thoughts, feel free to chime in."  
Serious Angela, maybe even an artshow. A relationship for Cam to begin.  
Serious resolution of the Zach arc, and more about Agent Booth's kin.  
No more crap about Brennan's phobias, more Dr. B. kicking ass,  
More field trips for Hodgins, fewer boobie jokes and more class.  
Real murders with real science and serious ethical lessons,  
Leave the jokes for the scenes of lunch breaks in delicatessens. (It rhymes. You try it, you're so smart.)  
Give Sweets a serial killer arc and let him use his mad headshrinking skillz,  
rather than just be a looming threat of breaking up B/B, which gives us all chills."

Each character nodded, signing agreement.  
"Nice points," said Brennan, increasingly vehement.  
"I want more eyesex with Booth, and less 'poor tortured Brennan,'  
Show fans don't think I'm so clueless-- the idea's really a lemon.  
I'm a genius, for Pete's sake, and yet you'd think I'd learned nothing  
from Booth's poking and prodding, and am still intent on rebuffing."

"And," Cam continued, as her knickers did twist,  
"They need to explain those two weeks they missed.  
What was Zack thinking? Hell, Brennan, too?  
These writers seem to have nary a clue!"

Booth nodded solemnly, his brow furrowed in deep contemplation.  
"How about some solo time with the two characters, so there's less speculation?  
If we can see them be thoughtful when they think they're alone,  
maybe the viewers will have better insight on which sins for which they feel the need to atone?  
Because Brennan, while atheist, works like a fiend,  
there's a reason for that, some truth to be gleaned.  
And what about all those mysterious overseas trips?  
There's some serious fodder there for our heroes coming to grips  
with their love for each other, and getting over their baggage,  
while keeping their partnership and maybe even a marriage.  
But so long as the writers jerk us around in this discontinuous dance,  
Hodgela, B/B, and nookie for Cam don't stand a chance."

"Dude, that's so deep, so Obi-Wan," Dr. Sweets stated.  
"Personally, I think you and Dr. Brennan are fated.  
All this crap about a female love interest this season for you is so overrated.  
The writers should just give us another Booth Brennan kiss,  
because if there's no happy B/B nookie this season, I will boo and hiss.  
I've got hopes for that in the show about the circus in the Panhandle,  
but if it's a dud of an ep kiss-wise, then this season won't hold a candle  
to S1 and S2, with sexual tension so thick,  
action and suspense so fast-paced you might even get sick."

Hodgins and Angela then broke from their kissing,  
and said in unison, "these grad students we should be dismissing.  
We want Zack back, though Max Keenan can stay,  
he could be useful in pushing B and B on their way.  
We like the natural light and the outdoor scenes  
but less of the pop culture jibing at Brennan, we think it's just mean.  
We need some Bren/Angie bonding to prove they are besties?  
And maybe Dr. B will get to kick some murderer guy in the testes."

The twinkly-eyed white haired dude smiled and nodded  
then he looked out the window and pointed and applauded.  
"Look, everyone, it's the Hollywood sign!  
Hollywood Boulevard, and some intersection named Vine!"  
The characters all peered out the windows with glee,  
such shining strobe lights and neon they never did see.  
The written off character reindeer over the premiere crowds did fly,  
prompting B-listers and entertainment reporters to look up in the sky.

The white limo at last at the studios did land,  
the characters all spilling out, even Cam and Sweets hand-in-hand.  
With his own twinkling smile, Hodgins turned to the dude,  
saying "Thanks for the ride, man, and when it's time, where should we find you?  
We're off to track down the writers and tell them what's what."  
The little man smiled, and said "You won't need to, no ifs ands or buts.  
I'm the new producer in town, and now I've got the guts  
to do what is needed to bring the show back up to snuff.  
I thank you guys and your author for taking the time  
to tell me what's good and what's out of line.  
Now I'm off to a meeting, and believe me, heads surely will roll  
if there's no Booth Brennan snogging this season, their kiss to extol.  
Trust me, too, there should be a Gravedigger capture,  
and it would be grand if it resulted in Hodgela rapture.  
My meeting's in ten, but take a stroll 'round the lot--  
Agent Booth, pick out some new suits, Cam, go to casting and pick out who's hot.  
Hodgins and Angela, there's an empty bedroom set right over there,  
and Sweets, follow me, I've got something I want to share."

The couples and Cam went on their merry ways,  
while the therapist followed the twinkly-eyed dude through what seemed like a maze.  
"Hey, where are we going," he asked, only to hear, "Patience, my boy. You'll see when we get there."  
Sweets walked and he followed, wondering and musing,  
then stopped as be saw the dude in front of him his speed was losing.  
It was an old studio, locked, an enormous old barn,  
but the twinkly-eyed old guy jimmied the lock with a yawn.

"Have fun, kid," he said, hitting the lights,  
then smiled as Sweets' grin lit up the night.  
"Light sabers, and bantas, and Obi-Wan's robes!  
Ewok costumes and Yoda and... dude... those evil little Death Star probes!"  
He turned to the little white haired man with a grin,  
saying "Thanks Santa Claus Out of Character, now the real fun begins!"  
With a leap, Sweets headed off to climb on the Y wing fighters,  
And Santa Claus OOC went off to meet with the writers.

To all who've forborne my bad rhymes and gotten this far,  
take yourselves for a drink at your favorite bar.  
And as you drink, raise a toast to our favorite show,  
crying "Merry Christmas to Bones, and story lines more apropos!"


	18. Oh Noes!

_(A voice overhead with a semi-melodious alto clears its throat.)_

"Psst. Tinky-Winky."

The largest and oldest of the sea chimps, the one from whom the other three budded, looked up to the ceiling as he splashed around in the pool full of champagne that was recently installed in a new wing adjacent to the platform.

"Yes, blc? What's up?"

"I need you and the other sea chimps to do me a favor."

"I'm all brine shimp ears," Tinky-Winky said with a grin. (Do sea chimps have smiles? Why the hell not? Sea chimp charm smiles. It's all good.)

"Okay. Well, here's the problem. If the stupid outgoing President hadn't totally ruined Bonesday last week it would be all good, but I have this thing that's called a _job_, and I'm not going to be able to watch _Double Trouble in the Panhandle_ tonight. I might possibly be able to get home for the hockey one after that, but… maybe not."

Tinky Winky looked dismayed. He, like the other sea chimps, Dipsy, LaaLaa and Po, had come to rely on blc's quick synopses and parodying critiques of each week's episode in order to relive and celebrate all the things that we love about our favorite show's quirks, foibles, and UST moments. And agree, yet again, that my, my, my, Booth was hot. Brennan, too. Though we wouldn't tell her so, because she might kick our asses. She could do it, too, all 6000 or so people reading the Bones section of the FF dot net boards. She probably wouldn't even be tired. In fact, it would probably make her milky soft skin glow with the faintest tinge of rose pink, highlighting her sparkling blue eyes.

"Can't you just tape it?" he asked.

blc blushed. "No VCR. Or TiVo. Literally, the only reason I watch TV is to watch Bones. Although I am going to have to get that converter box thingy in February."

Tinky Winky shook his head. "Wow. That's, well, that's intense. So, dude, basically, you're … obsessed. So … what do you need?"

"Any way you and the other Teletubbies, I mean sea chimps, can get Fox to post _Double Trouble_ first thing after the episode airs so I don't have to wait, like, FOREVER to watch it on Hulu?"

Tinky Winky thought for a moment, then pulled up his red waterproof purse and rummaged inside for his i-Phone. Or was it a Blackberry? Whatever. He sent a text with his nimble brine-shrimp feelers and waited for a moment before looking back up after receiving some text in response.

"Dipsy and Max are going to try to hack into the studio's network and get the episode up after midnight, Eastern Standard Time. Max is going to sneak him in to the studio's computer server room, and Dipsy will use his Mad Computer Hackin' Skillz to see what he can do."

blc's voice sounded relieved. "Thanks, that's all I ask. After such a long spell without Bones, I've got a major Bones jones that can't be met by just one episode, assuming my stupid job even lets me get home in time. I need maximum exposure to our favorite crime fighting heroes in order to get some more inspiration for Serendipity fluff, since if I write any more angst in that fic I'm just going to have to kill Brennan off, which I promised I wouldn't do. All I've been able to write lately is serious angst because I'm so depressed over not having eyesex to swoon over."

Tinky-Winky nodded, agreeing. "We'll all be glad when the episodes are back on regularly—it's been hard on us all. Laa-Laa and Po are over at Sid's, downing champagne to drown their Booth/Brennan withdrawal."

blc chuckled. "Well, at least my fictional creations can drown their sorrows. Wish I could afford to get buzzed on champagne whenever I wanted."

Tinky-Winky gave her a sympathetic look, then rubbed the back of his neck from the strain of looking up for so long. "Maybe you'll win the lottery and can write fan fiction all the time."

blc sighed. "Maybe. It would be nice."

Tinky-Winky winked. "Everything happens eventually."

_(Close scene.)_

_**(Eventually-- much like the update on tonight's back to back episodes. I am totally, totally bummed that I'm going to miss Double Trouble. Totally.)**_


	19. Double Trouble in the Panhandle

_**Double Trouble in the Panhandle**_

* * *

Brennan sat in Booth's lap, her black eye still obvious, but both partners' excessive eye makeup now gone. They'd changed back into their regular casual clothing, and were switching mugs of coffee back and forth as they sat waiting for the rest of the team to arrive up in the lounge.

"Too bad about that ex-Presidential address last week, hunh, sweetheart?" asked Booth, smoothing that ever-errant stray of Brennan's hair from her face.

Brennan looked thoughtful, as she stroked her deft little thumb over the sculptured, stubbled plane of Booth's jaw. "I don't know, Booth. It was terrible that our fans had to wait another week for the resumption of our semi-regular programming, and don't even get me started on American Idol next week, but in some ways, it was nice to have both episodes on, back-to-back. That way, viewers could see the continuing progression of our relationship and how increasingly physically comfortable we are around one another."

Booth ran his large, warm, manly hand over his beloved Bones' soft, curvaceous, yet muscular thigh. "Can't be soon enough for the show to catch up with its own reality, Bones."

Brennan nodded, agreeing. "Where is everyone?" she said, then stood and walked over to the edge of the lounge. "Ah," she said, motioning Booth over. "They're re-watching our performance as Buck and Wanda as Boris and Natasha on the computer again."

Booth puffed out his chest. "We were pretty good, hunh, Bones?"

Brennan smiled warmly, her hair still in the soft waves the hairstylist gave her during their non-undercover parts of the episode. "Yes, Booth, we were." Then, clapping her hands, she called "Come on, people! Let's get this show on the road!"

Everyone looked up, startled that Dr. Brennan would be so loud and forthright. Booth, standing next to her, said as he did on the show, '_show people_,' in that exaggerated tone he used in the car.

The rest of the characters trooped up the stairs, as the two partners sat next to each other, close enough for Brennan to play footsie with Booth and for Booth to stroke Brennan's thigh under the table. Each did so throughout the course of the wrap up, stoking in the other an already unquenchable fire. But that's what these two are all about, right? Totally, eternally hot.

Angela smiled to herself as she sat, sipped her coffee, then kicked off the wrap up. "I loved how when you two were in the car on the way to the twins' parents house, Booth was all '_hope not_,' and then '_hmm_' and his goofy, affable smile when Bren suggested you might be able to wrap the case up quickly." Cam nodded agreement. Booth was so cute when he was trying to pull the wool over Brennan's eyes.

Hodgins, who'd been drinking his coffee, changed the subject thoughtfully. "That mother and stepfather were creepy, creepily creepy. Talk about taking advantage of an unfortunate circumstance for personal gain, and/or failing to recognize that at some point children grow up and you just have to let them go. The whole subplot about whether the twins wanted to remain conjoined or not was an interesting way of exploring matters of personality and identity—the things that make us different even as under it all, we're all the same."

"That's wicked deep, Dr. Hodgins," Sweets noted. "And true. Totally. I mean, that creepy doctor shouldn't have been sleeping with either of the sisters, but what he said was true—every one of us is different, and making assumptions about how people will react and what they want out of life is a universally recurrent problem."

Cam smiled as she looked at the partners. "You two were going at it like a long-married couple in that web conference there in the trailer, Brennan complaining about Booth's underwear on the floor, and the way you got all cranky about the elements of the act."

Angela laughed. "Booth's just mad because Bren got all creative, stealing his thunder."

"Yeah, what was up with the forensic anthropologists stealing my thunder this week?" asked Hodgins crankily. "First that walking fountain of useless crap Nigel-Murray, then even Dr. B. got in on the act. Don't the writers know that my startling intuitive leaps and my wry, acerbic wit is part of my charm? They can't be giving all my humor to everyone else."

Angela smiled. "I'm just glad I got to wear my personalized lab coat this week, and keep my arms warm. I haven't paid much attention earlier this season, but I realized that back in season one I wore a different, but equally bedazzled lab coat all the time. I'm glad I got to be more of a squint this episode, what with the database searches and the Angelator-lite computer mock-ups."

"Yeah, what was up with that?" Cam commented. "We're all huddled around your computer instead of staring intently through the woo-woo lights of the Angelator. That doohickey's way more fun."

Hodgins narrowed his eyes and stared around the table. "The Angelator doesn't have a Macintosh or Dell label on it."

"Ahhhh," said all the squints. Booth and Sweets, too. _Damn_, they both thought to themselves. These squints' conspiracy theories about product placements held weight.

"What do we think about the costuming this week?" Brennan asked.

Booth checked her out unabashedly. "Well, I was back to my boring-ass suits except when I was Boris and wearing those stupid unflattering spandex tights, although the muscle shirt did show off my guns of steel, but Bones-- you had quite a flattering dress seeming to indicate your softening view toward yourself and perhaps me on in that scene in Sweets' office, and you've got to believe every guy in the country are all down with you wearing fishnets on those mile-long milky white legs of yours, Bones."

The other men at the table nodded their heads, then averted their eyes as Booth shot them all Evil Booth Glares. He was thinking back to that scene where they confronted the whole circus about the twins' death, and the pull-away shot showed a bit of the back of Bones' thigh right at the underside curve of her incredible bottom. He was going to have to shoot that cameraman.

_(Somewhere, a cameraman ducked for cover.)_

Sweets cleared his throat, hoping to change the subject. "I enjoyed the fact that I got to share a personal tidbit about myself, be of help in the investigation, and be present during that totally cool sexy moment when Agent Booth and Doctor Brennan shut the rest of the world out as they agreed to go undercover. Plus—wicked cool that Dr. Brennan actually agreed with me about something, and wanted my lexicon." He repressed the urge to think about whether Dr. Brennan might ever want more than his lexicon. She did look hot in those fishnets. And she had some seriously impressive cleavage both in Wanda's blue dress and in her costume. Damn. Dr. Temperance Hot-Damn Brennan.

Booth leaned in to whisper into his lovely Bones' ear. "I got you undercover later, baby. Over the covers and on the floor, too."

"Booth," she hissed, his warm breath tickling the back of her neck and sending waves of heat coursing through her curvaceous yet delicate form. "Behave. We've got twenty minutes between this wrap up and the one for Fire in the Ice. We can go downstairs. Just be good for now."

Angela, ignoring the partners, said "I thought it was hot, the way Booth said '_we are going to join the circus_.' It was like he was saying '_we are going to have hot monkey sex in a custom-painted trailer_.' Tell me you guys had hot monkey sex in a hand-painted trailer. Please?"

The partners shook their heads. "Sorry, Ange," Brennan replied. "We don't know if we shared that very small bed, or if we made the trailer rock more than that one time. The writers insist on still teasing both us and the viewers."

Hodgins, thinking back to the costuming question Booth raised, said hesitantly, "Dude. That fauxhawk spiky thing they had you doing while you were playing Buck Moosejaw made you look like kind of a douche."

Booth nodded, not taking offense. "Yeah. I know. I mean, the tights and the fur coat and the hat I can dig, and I had my cool stripey socks on at the end, hell, even the eye makeup, I mean, '_show people!_' but yeah. The hair thing was less than desirable."

Sweets, glad that Booth seemed to be in the mood for constructive critiques, said "Yeah, and what was it with them having Buck brandishing his knives all the time even when you weren't performing? Talk about overt phallic insecurity. I mean, could they make it more clear that you were playing with your knives because the only thing making that trailer rocking was the two of you and that '_syncopated rhythm_' Dr. Brennan suggested?"

Before Booth could even glare at the therapist, however, Brennan shot Sweets a glare. "I found Booth's characterization quite amusing, and consistent with a virile man integrating himself into a new social milieu while asserting his very real male prowess. Although yes, the hair was pretty douchey."

"Anyone besides me start playing drinking games to how many times Bren said '_I'm quite adept on the high wire?'_" Angela asked with a smirk. Everyone at the table, including Brennan and Booth, raised their hands, Brennan rolling her eyes as she did so.

"You'd think by now my character wouldn't be so insecure as to feel the need to trumpet competing abilities to Booth's—that she could accept they were complements, and take turns being the lead partner, rather than feeling like she always had something to prove."

Sweets steepled his hands in front of his face. "That's quite astute, Dr. Brennan, and totally true. Totally. I mean, here you are so far this season tending to show more emotional insight and overt interest and/or expression of same with Agent Booth, and yet now the writers make you all '_I'm also a bestselling author_' all over again."

Everyone groaned. "Not the bestselling author shtick again," Hodgins groaned. "It's almost as bad as the '_I have three doctorates_.' I mean, geez, you'd think they hadn't established the woman's a genius and yet kinda insecure by now. Why do they beat us over the head with it?"

Dr. Sweets shook his head, then changed the subject. "Anyone have any opinion on the authenticity of the grittiness of circus life, the lingo, the itinerant and incestuous relationships of the performers and crew, the way the internal cliques and tensions resolve when as a group they are confronted by gillies?"

Everyone shook their head, no.

"Ahem," came a semi-melodious voice from above. "I'm actually able to comment."

Everyone looked up, this time less surprised by the Deus Ex Fanfiction.

"Really?" asked Dr. Sweets.

blc made a small noise of agreement, then spoke again. "It was really pretty accurate," she said. "In high school, I worked at the circus two springs in a row when it came to my town, as an usher and popcorn vendor, and one summer when I had a huge fight with my parents, right before college, I actually travelled with them for six weeks. Crew stuff, rigging the tent and the lights, cleaning up after the horses and elephants, moving off props and things during performances. Man, I was Linda Hamilton Terminator buff by the end of the summer. But … anyway. Yeah. It's a lonely life, and all you have is each other. But… the performance part, the lights, the smell of popcorn and hay, the heat and roar of the crowd? It's more than worth it to so many people. And that comment about the crappy tent and the constant worry at the box office is entirely true. It's a hand to mouth existence except for the richest of circuses. But still—the rush, the show, makes all the weird parts of it fade—an appreciative smile on the face of a child is all that you're aiming for. Although it sucks climbing under the bleachers to retrieve little kids' coats all covered in sno-cone juice. Ugh. So sticky. Way grosser than next week's corpsicle."

The group snorted, their author's concluding joke alleviating the melancholy ache her earlier words evoked. The road calls to all of us, in some way. Each one reflected as to how they sometimes wished to disappear over the horizon, as Booth said.

"I wouldn't mind going back out there as Wanda and Buck," Brennan confided.

Booth nodded. "Yeah. We could maybe even figure out a way to make knife throwing and high wire walking work out."

Hodgins stroked his beard. "I always wanted to lead tours at dude ranches. You know, camp in front of the fire, play a harmonica, look up into deep starry skies, all that jazz?"

Cam thought to herself of the days when she and her college friends would borrow one of their parents' Winnebagoes. They'd all save up money, pile in the camper, sleeping wherever, and just drive until half their money ran out. World's largest balls of string, cheesey roadside museums, rainbows over rivers, and the best meatloaf she'd ever had in her life, she'd seen and done it all on those trips.

Angela sniffled. "I miss being on the road with my Dad, sometimes."

Sweets shook his head. He'd finally tracked down his mother, and they'd had a short and bittersweet reunion. She'd invited him to stay with her, travel a bit, but warned him. "_The food's crappy, and there's never really enough hot water for showers. The dust and smell of popcorn gets into everything. But—you can count on each other, and that look on the audiences' faces when you make them believe in magic, just for a little while? It's worth all the crappy food in the world._" He'd travelled with her for three weeks—and while his loved his family, there was something about that life, all the bad American Chop Suey notwithstanding.

Aloud, then, Sweets changed the subject. "Anyone else besides me wonder whether Brennan and Booth could have gotten in trouble for essentially letting that whole circus run out on them? I mean, they even gave them clues about how to beat the rap on the interfering with a body charges. Or were they going to totally flub it when they got back? It was kind of a big deal, that. I mean, yeah, there was no murder, and so there was only sadness to be had at solving the case, but it still seemed like there was a big hole in the central premise of the show if our two heroes are such dedicated crimefighters."

Everyone thought deeply about it, contemplating the problem. "It seems like the writers were more interested in the undercover part of the case, and not on the crimefighting stuff," offered Sweets. "So inconsistent."

"Well, there's not much we can do about that. Let's talk about something lighter. Gotta say, Mr. Nigel-Murray's amusing on an occasional basis, but Cam's going to rip that kid's head off if they ever hired him to replace Zack. I mean, he's cute, and that accent is sure to charm some fangirls, but…" Angela trailed off, then sipped her coffee.

Cam shook her head sadly. "There's no replacement for Zack."

Everyone nodded sadly in agreement, though Sweets tried to lighten the mood. "I enjoyed how Dr. Saroyan beat him to the punch on the x-rays. Dr. Saroyan rarely gets an overtly humorous line in the show, it was nice to see her put her quite apt comedic abilities to overt use."

Cam smiled, the shadow of sadness passing from her face. "It is nice to get to be funny every once in w a while. And, I was also glad to be wearing sleeves, along with Angela, this week. And I would also note that Dr. Brennan was hilarious in the transition from '_it looks like a small animal_' to her recitation of all the giant plastic clown props as they looked for the possible murder weapon."

Hodgins snorted. "I'd love a giant plastic ice cream cone, personally. And it was nice to see Booth get over his '_hatred_' of clowns. At least he didn't shoot one this time."

Booth snorted in return. "Yeah, although I kinda regret the fact that I didn't get to rumble with Tumbles the Clown. That would have been fun, ripping that bright orange wig off his head. I mean, come on. No one should wear that much plaid. Except maybe golfers."

Mr. Nigel-Murray, who'd remained silent this whole time because of Dr. Saroyan's insistence on context, could no longer control himself. "Did you know, golf was invented in Scotland, and originally involved striking stones with sticks into rabbit holes?"

Everyone turned and glared at him, Hodgins mumbling "Thank God Wendell's back next week," under his breath.

"Anyone else find Andy Richter as the Ringmaster as amusing as I did?" Booth asked. "That bit where he fires the clown gun in order to stop my impending rumble with Tumbles was awesome. And who doesn't love a pink sequined jacket every once in a while?"

Cam rolled her eyes. "Well, you for starters, apparently. Somehow, it doesn't surprise me, what with your choice in socks and all. Although I must agree, in hindsight, with Jack. You looked quite rakish wearing that eyepatch, Dr. Brennan."

Brennan smiled and colored prettily. "Why, thank you, Camille. I did enjoy this show, since despite some of the very valid critiques levied here, it was an opportunity to show some of the more adventurous parts of the personality I had in the first season, when I talked about cave diving and other such physical activities. And… I must admit, I quite enjoyed the line and the sparkling look in my eye that my actress mustered when I said "_therein lies the excitement_…"

Angela smirked. "Gotta say, too, sweeties—you and Booth had that totally hot intimate moment where he's right on top of you warning you about how not to get killed when he's throwing knives at you, and if I were your actress, then your Bones would have totally jumped Booth's bones right then in there. Because really… Booth's arms in this ep? Totally cut, totally hot."

Everyone sat sipping their coffee. Downstairs, the Sea Chimps Tinky-Winky, Dipsy, Laa-Laa and Po started to try to compose a theme song they could sing every time someone said Booth looked hot. Or maybe a drinking game for post-episode Character Building, so readers could drink along with blc as she guzzled red wine and typed her poor fingers off.

Tinky-Winky Sea Chimp pulled out some blank sheet music paper from his big red waterproof purse and started scribing. "Something sort of 70s porn, I think," he said.

The other three Sea Chimps pursed their lips thoughtfully. (Do Sea Chimps have lips? Hell, do Teletubbies? What the hell do I care… it's my fanfic, and they'll have lips if I want to…)

"I was kind of thinking more Smokey Robinson,or Marvin Gaye," offered Po.

"Oh, dude. Marvin Gaye, totally," said Laa-Laa. The other chimps looked at her, and she blinked slowly. "What? I love Hodgins, (_Hodgins! they all trilled, because Sea Chimps are krill, dontcha know, at least Mr. Nigel Murray would_, _and trill rhymes with krill_) but Sweets is kind of growing on me."

Sweets had just one more thing he wanted to note before they went on break before the next part of the wrap-up. Much like the back-to-back eps this week, the wrap-ups were back-to-back, too, and they were only going to take a short break for some of the Chinese food Booth scored in Fire in the Ice before resuming their group analysis.

"I found it interesting this week that Dr. Brennan displayed so much trust in Agent Booth when he was throwing knives at her, and that it took him a while to obtain the same level of confidence in his own, very real skill. That particular part of the episode was a larger metaphor for this season's apparent direction of character building."

Everyone groaned, but Sweets waved his hands. "Yeah. Sorry. But anyway. Dr. Brennan was manifesting near-absolute trust in Agent Booth for her physical safety, something he'd been trying to get her to accept for the last three seasons, and just as she's started to give it to him, he's got all these emotional insecurities that we can only hope her faith in him also helps him resolve."

Booth, who agreed, and Brennan, who did too, shared a deep, passionate kiss as the other characters all looked at Sweets, awed at the way he so nicely summarized the season so far. Parting for air, Booth merely said gruffly, "Maybe. Or maybe I was just distracted by the way Bones looked in those fishnets."

Brennan playfully slapped her secret off-episode husband. "Better than those spandex tights things of yours. They made your calves look rather scrawny…"

The other characters groaned as the two started to bicker again. Cam stood. "Okay. Time for some of Mama-san's Hot and Sour Soup before we reconvene. Everyone back here in twenty?"

Booth, near-overwhelmed by the intoxicating fragrance of his Bones, said "How about thirty? All that crappy circus food's left me hungry. Bones and I are going to run to the diner, but we'll be back in thirty, no problem."

Cam nodded. "That makes sense, fine with me."

The two partners stood immediately, heading downstairs and out of the lab. As everyone else started to help themselves to some of the soup from next week's episode, though, the lights flickered, disco balls flashed from the ceiling, and the Sea Chimps burst into an Andrea Bocelli medley. Who knew Tinky-Winky was such a talented tenor?

The characters all grabbed their spoons and bowls, and set to with gusto.

Outside, a black SUV was rocking. This time with the rhythm of love…


	20. The Fire in the Ice

**The Fire in the Ice**

* * *

The rest of the characters were waiting when at thirty minutes exactly, the partners crested the stairs and made their way back into the lounge, their two favored chairs next to each other left empty. Both looked happy and pink cheeked, smiling at everyone. They also seemed a little out of breath, their clothes slightly askew.

"You kids run all the way back from the diner?" Angela asked. "We would have waited."

"It's alright, Angela," Brennan replied. "We wouldn't want to slow the wrap-up down."

"Yeah," Booth chimed in. "Not professional."

Cam smiled at Seeley's implied endorsement of her attempt to maintain a stable, efficient workplace, and looked around the table to survey the characters. Mr. Nigel-Murray had, thankfully, departed, muttering something about a trivia contest at Sid's, and Wendell, her favorite intern of the week, had taken his place. Not that there would be any replacement for Zack, but Wendell was cute and low key, and added some man chemistry back into the show, all good things, since she didn't want the lab to become a total hen-fest. But she always enjoyed the random bits Wendell would disclose about himself during the shows. After all, there was that tape-worm bit the last time he was on, and this time that complete non-sequitur "_juvie hall_" crack was a hoot.

"Alright, people. What did we think about The Fire in the Ice?"

There was a giant pause, as everyone looked at each other around the table. Sweets grinned at Cam, Cam grinned at Jack, Jack grinned at Angela, Angela grinned at Wendell, and the two partners, recalling their most shipper-licious episode this season to date, heck, maybe 4-EVA, smiled moonily at each other, holding hands and stroking the other's cheek with tender, boundless loving abandon.

As a one, then, the whole cast jumped up and started doing an Angela-squeal as they did their own versions of the Snoopy Dance, each thinking of the way the episode was just chock-full of Booth-Bonesy relationship-advancing quiet moments and fluff, in between the crimefighting thing and some pretty good science. As each character squeed and jumped around with their hands in the air (as each did after watch the episode on the widescreen TV they had on the platform, leftover from the WebCam from Double Trouble) they thought further on all the episode's wonderful moments-- including the way Booth said "_Nothing's gonna change between us, Bones_," and "_Forget Agent Perotta_," and "_I'm never going to let you fall, Bones_." And then there was the way Brennan smiled and waved at Booth in the penalty box at the start of the ep the way he gave her a silly sweet smile in response. Each sighed at how Brennan never believed, not for a second, that Booth murdered that hockey player, how she told Booth ever so seriously that she didn't need to know Booth's father to know that he was made of _"very, very good stuff_," how she said he was the only FBI Agent she wanted to work with, twice in one episode-- and then felt tears prick their eyes at the winsome, vulnerable way she said "_I get nervous when you fall down and don't get up_," as well as the way the cameraman evoked the end scene from _Wannabe in the Weeds_ with Booth lying on the floor and Brennan standing over him.

Nobody noticed that Brennan and Booth were doing less of a Snoopy Dance and more of a Lambada, their eyes locked on each other.

In fact, the episode so satisfied everyone's Booth-Brennan loving hearts that they all swooned to the floor-- then got up and swooned again for good measure. The ep was a total swoon-gasm. Totally.

When the characters were all un-swooned and sitting again, Booth passed out some toffee crisp cookies he'd made earlier. He could have deep-seated rage issues, yeah, but that didn't mean he didn't like to bake, either. Besides, chicks thought it was hot, and hot? That's what Booth was. (The Sea Chimps burst into Marvin Gaye's "_Let's Get it On_" downstairs, then shouted "_DRINK_!" at the top of their lungs. And no, I'm not turning this into a songfic. You want the lyrics? Go look them up. It's call the Internet, people.)

Sweets started things off. "The opening body discovery was slightly less boorish, at least it was a father trying to impart actual knowledge to his child, and that auger thing with the blood? That was gross. Totally."

Cam nodded. "I agree. So was the corpsicle, and that scene where I'm pulling his liver out? Nasty. But clearly the central issues of the episode were Booth's unresolved anger issues and his concern that Brennan and others, but primarily Brennan, might think ill of him when he fears he's just like his father. The fact was, however, that Booth held himself back from strangling Sweets both those times, when lord knew I sure as hell wouldn't have, and that he does, indeed, always have it under control. I mean, he gave that Carlson guy just the right amount of a beat down, but no more."

Everyone nodded. The revelations about Booth's back story and the anger underlying his affable exterior were all well and good in the context of the show, but all the ff dot net readers know and love them some Dark Booth, and know that so long as he has his wonderful Bones by his side, nothing can defeat him. And vice-versa. The two were symbiotic. That "we're coffee" thing was a joke. They were soul mates. Apparently only the show's writers had missed that.

"Yeah," Angela said. "And though it's inappropriate for me to say so, that stare Booth gave Sweets in Booth's office gave me chills, but the right kind of chills in all the right places."

Sweets chortled. Trust Ms. Montenegro to turn a serious moment of character development into an inappropriate sexual innuendo. Just then, Agent Peyton Perotta cautiously mounted the stairs, entering tentatively. "Hi, everyone," she said, waving. "Miss Julian said I should come over since I'm going to be here at least two more episodes this season, and that I should participate in the discussion. That is, if you don't mind."

Everyone else was tempted to be unfriendly, but Brennan recalled the way in which Perotta stood up for her team in that meeting with Caroline Julian, and motioned her to sit in the chair next to Sweets. "Have a seat, Agent Perotta. We were just discussing the Dark Booth elements of this week's story."

Perotta, who knew there would be some crazy Brennan shippers out there who would gladly rip her head off, thanked the intimidating forensic anthropologist quietly, then took the chair indicated. She wasn't quite sure what Dark Booth was, she'd thought he was quite twinkly, but these people knew him better than she did. Perhaps she'd do better to just listen for this episode. It might give her more clues how to integrate herself better the next time she was on.

Cam, who was equally grateful that the blonde chippy stood up for the team, smiled encouragingly and slid her a coffee as well as one of Booth's cookies.

Booth smiled, then picked up the thread of conversation. "In addition to character back story, we have some more mundane details of my life. Not only do I have last season's bathroom, I apparently have an apartment, with a front door, a kitchen table, a couch and a coffee table. And... I said Maxillary Orbit right, people, and figured out the black light thing at the rink. Also, I apparently a have a Dell laptop, or at least one I can take home from the office. Although, gotta say, the apartment looks nothing like the one I had in the first season, the one with the red walls and the dark wood when I came to the door with no shirt on?" He then reached over and grabbed two of his cookies, since he was hungry after all that Bones-lovin' in the truck. As he chewed, he reflected. Maybe more salt and more slivered almonds in the batter next time.

The women all nodded as they thought back to that S1 scene where Brennan swung by to drop off a file. They remembered that episode fondly, Tessa aside, and had re-watched it multiple times on DVD as well as on YouTube. Multiple times. Because, well, Booth was hot. ("_DRINK_!" and more Marvin Gaye wafting up from the Sea Chimps' champagne-filled swimming pool...)

Hodgins grumbled-- "Who _doesn't_ have a Dell Laptop on the show, except for Dr. B., who's got MacIntosh products? I'd like a Mac. Why won't the product placement people give me a Mac?"

Cam, still indulging in her primal urges, noted with a smile, "I know I shouldn't be saying this, but I kind of enjoyed the smile Booth had on his face right before he beat Carlson's ass down on the ice. Feral Booth? Very hot." ("It Takes Two." Tipsy-sounding Sea Chimps giggling "_DRINK!_")

Sweets looked back toward the swimming pool, trying to ignore his own internal inconsistency when he took Booth to task for his on-ice violence, when at the rink, he seemed like he was actually enjoying watching the fight. To assuage his guilt, he tried to change the subject to the singing, drinking Sea Chimps.. "Dude, what are they doing down there?"

Hodgins ("Hodgins!" More drunken krill trilling...) shrugged. "Don't know, man. But they had a long week-- they were over at the White House working with the new transition team on the Global Warming thing, and then the new President wanted their opinion on Off-Shore Wind Farms. I think they're just kicking back with some vodka I brought them."

"Okay, people," Cam said, trying to bring the discussion back to the show, and not to the off-episode lives blc gave them, which they were all glad for, mind you, but weren't the central purpose of this fiction. "Costuming."

"Or lack of," Angela snorted. "Way hot scene in the locker room, Booth." ("You're All I Need To Get By," slightly slurred-sounding, more "_DRRRINNNK_!".)

Booth smirked. He did look hot-- but he wondered how much money a month his actor spent getting his chest waxed. ("Se-shual Heeeeellllin," followed by the sound of Tinky-Winky crashing into a cart of spam.) He changed the subject, however. "Bones looked really cute in all those hats. I wonder if some hat company sent a bunch over to costume, or if they just got good feedback on how cute she looked in Santa in the Slush last year. And I only had to wear those boring black suits in two scenes, while I got to wear casual clothes that showed off my well-built arms and muscular back through the thin, clinging fabric."

(Downstairs, Po hiccuped. "Aretha Franklin? Dianna Krall? Rrrroosemary Clooney for *hic* Brennan?" Dipsy burped out "Arrr-ettha!" then burst into 'You're All I Need to Get By," the other krill slowly following.)

Hodgins nodded, then said bravely, "I thought Dr. B. had several striking ensembles this episode, including that skirt ensemble that showed of her slender, toned, feminine, milky-white gams and that black turtleneck which set off her pale skin, dark hair, and deep azure eyes. And makeup didn't go nuts with the base, and her hair was in its soft waves again." Since Booth didn't lunge across the table to kill him, he ventured to comment again. "All in all, Dr. B. was far more attractive than Agent Perotta, who don't get me wrong, is quite lovely, and I'd sure flirt with her, too, but Dr. B.? She's the Queen of the Lab."

(Dipsy stood on the Sea Chimp diving board, calling "_DRINK!_" right before breaking out into "R-E-S-P-E-C-T, find out what it means to *burp* me...")

Booth nodded. "Yep. Sorry, Peyton. I don't know what the writers were thinking, having me tell you that Bones and I were just partners. I could hardly be that fickle when I took a bullet for Bones, or that I would put the mack on someone and be so obvious about as to state that I didn't have a girlfriend and thus was free for some FBI mambo."

"If you can't keep it in your pants, keep it in the FBI family," Angela muttered under her breath to Brennan. "I still say FBI Barbie's got to go." Brennan patted her hand soothingly. Logically speaking, the woman's introduction was all just a way for the writers to interject some more sexual tension into the show, and, she thought, to prove that Brennan was flexible enough to work with other Agents than Booth, which would make both partners not take the other's talents for granted. She hoped. Because if they had Booth kiss FBI Barbie, then anything Booth might have done in the past would be a faint shadow compared to the berserker rage that would seize Brennan. Because really-- the first thing Brennan ever did with her own Barbie was cut her head off, to look at the cervical processes. Twinkling Booth her ass. She'd twinkle at FBI Barbie, twinkle the light off a very sharp knife.

"Good science, this ep," Hodgins said, stroking his beard. "I got some good bug names in, said 'larvae' correctly, and got to stick aquarium fish in a blender. And Angie was the one who clued us in that the ammonia that killed all those fish was a clue, not an anomaly. And those subtle bone bruising findings Dr. B. made proved once again that her brilliance and ability to find small clues overlooked by everyone else is unmatched. Plus, she says she has no gut, yet once again figured out the murder weapon just by staring at Booth's lace puller for two seconds. But ... gotta say, again. It wasn't an experiment, really, but at least I got to put fish in a blender.""

"Fish in a blender," Wendell guffawed. "That sounds like a good band name. I liked that I was really part of the team this week. First Booth gets all musth on that Carlson bastard for me on the ice, then gets all Papa Booth on me when he helps me up and checks on me in the locker room, and then I figure out there's a second source of DNA and the cause of death, then Jack takes me out on a field trip and we have that ammonia-stolen jewelry-dead fish realization, and then Jack and I say in unison "_we're Booth's Squints_," which is true. Not that Agent Perotta's not lovely," he said, inclining his head to the curvaceous, long-blond-tressed agent, "but the fact is this team's been four years in the making, and I've been on three episodes already and I've got to say, the lab just isn't a a home without Booth and Brennan both working the case. Though, of course, it's always nice to have an adjunct Agent around."

Wendell then wondered if he'd said the right thing. He really wanted to stop being Intern O'the Week and be the Permanent Intern, and he really did feel that way about Dr. Brennan and her partner, but Agent Perotta was attractive, and he'd always done pretty well with older women. He wondered if it would be too soon for him to ask her out on a date the next time they were on an episode together. As he looked over at her, she seemed to tip her head, then smiled at him.

Brennan spoke then. "I will say that despite the B/B shippers' resentment of Agent Perotta, I quite liked how she didn't let Booth take over the investigation, and on several occasions actually told him to back off. While she clearly had less experience than Booth, she displayed admirable levels of intellect and self-assuredness, and was in all a good, strong female character. I also liked that she was comfortable taking her own evidence photographs, and didn't require a number of techs trailing behind her."

Agent Perotta colored prettily, amazed at the forensic anthropologist's magnanimity. "Thank you, Dr. Brennan," she said softly, looking over the table at the beautiful and intelligent woman. My but she was attractive. So brilliant, so forthright and honest, that milky skin, those depthless blue eyes, that silky, fragrant hair... she'd been sitting next to Brennan long enough in the ice ring to catch a whiff of her ineffable perfume. No wonder there were rumors about Brennan and Booth at the Hoover. Brennan smelled divine, and that piercing gaze of hers just demanded ... something ... everything of you. She suddenly wished she swung that way, because Dr. Brennan could well be her soul mate. ("I Say a Little Praaayyyyerrr," crooned by Tinky-Winky, the only Sea Chimp still sitting somewhat upright.)

Either that, or it was just that every FBI character introduced onto the show for more than one episode also fell in love with Dr. Brennan. Whatever happened to Agent Sullivan, anyway? "I certainly look forward to working with you again in the next two episodes. I hope that we will be able to bring more wrongdoers to justice."

Brennan smiled at her warmly, and Agent Perotta near-swooned. Then near-swooned again, for good measure. "I'll look forward to that, Agent Perotta." she said, her melodious alto warming Peyton's soul. What she wouldn't give to hear Dr. Brennan, no, _Temperance_, call her by her first name. _Kiss me, Peyton. Make love to me, Peyton. Let me dedicate a book to you, Peyton_. ("Natural Woman," right before Laa-Laa slumped over, drooling.)

Angela, catching the eyes FBI Barbie was making at Brennan, felt a twinge of jealousy. She was Brennan's best friend, after all. If Bren was going to get all femslash, it would damn well better be with Angela, first. But she tamped it down. She had time to make Brennan hers, if her instincts about Booth were just wrong. Maybe the dude _was_ gay. Aloud, she noted "I had my bedazzled lab coat on again, and Cam had her customized long sleeved lab jacket-- all very squinty, and way less Rachel Zoe fashion plate-ish. And Hodgins had some good cracks, including the one about the fish and the Peruvian soccer teams."

Booth snorted, nodding at Hodgins. "Yeah, that was a good one, man. And the whole photo op thing was funny, too."

Hodgins managed to keep his inner man-crush from making him burst out into joyous tears at Booth's praise. Instead, he just held up his fist over the table, and Booth met it with a fist bump. A frisson of heat shot through Hodgins' being, as he reflected all over again that damn, Booth was hot. (Downstairs, the Sea Chimps all just moaned, empty bottles of vodka rolling all over.) "I also noted that Nikon seems to have provided the cameras."

"That's quite astute, Dr. Hodgins," Peyton offered with interest. He was rather attractive, Dr. Hodgins was, with those blue eyes and that sarcastic charm of his. Was he single?

Under the table, Angela sharpened her claws. Make eyes at Booth, Bren, and Hodgie? She was going to rip FBI Barbie's hair out by the roots. Bad enough that Hodgie went on a date, looked happy about it, and then had the confidence to accuse her of a twinge, when it was clear by her answer that things weren't working out the way she'd hoped things would with Roxie. Damn, we were in for some Angela-angst. (Streisand? Celine Dion? Whaddya think, readers?) Distracting herself, she said "Did Caroline say why she couldn't join us for the wrap up? It was so nice to see so much of her in this episode."

Peyton shook her head, her long blond tresses framing her pink pouty lips. (Britney Spears. Or Christina Aguilera? Aguilera, I think.) "She mentioned something about her actress' having another guest spot on some other show."

Everyone nodded. Caroline's actress was busy. She played lots of lawyers and cops on lots of procedurals, and was a much sought-after character actress. And damn, she was funny. Good in the courtroom scenes, too. That cherie, she was funny.

"Anything have any comments on the hockey fight scene except for the fact that it was totally hot the way Booth whaled on all those guys and made them bleed," Cam asked, another feral glint in her eye. In fact, now that she thought of it, Wendell got a few good hits himself, and he was rather attractive, not as Seacrest-y as they all thought at the start. (Po rolled over, burped, said "Jussshtin Timberlake" and rolled further into the pool full of champagne.)

Sweets, feeling grouchy that it took a cheesey fantasy sequence with a hockey player who could barely deliver his lines in order to make Agent Booth realize that he did, in fact, have his rage under control, was about to say something to that effect, then thought better of it. He'd already tested Agent Booth twice and been exposed to his anger. If he mentioned it again, well, '_third time's the charm_' might be '_third time's the harm_.' Plus, he hadn't missed that camera angle overlap with WITW, and didn't want to remind either partner of that episode or PITH lest they both kick his ass. He didn't want Dr. Brennan's fist landing on him. Anything that knocked Booth down on the ground would knock him into next week. He struggled for words, then caught on something to say.

"I thought it rather cheesey to have Booth's inspiration for linking the suspects together come during the dream, when there was hardly any mention of the victim's volunteer fireman status beforehand. You'd have thought they'd interview his co-workers and not just his teammates as part of the regular winnowing process."

Booth stroked his long manly fingers over his stubbled, rugged jaw. "Yeah. I mean, you'd think I'd think of that earlier. That is a cheesey writer's trick, now that you mention it."

Brennan smiled softly. "What I liked was Booth's letting me drive him home and getting him soup and welcoming me into his apartment, all signs that he trusts me enough to let me do something to help him when he's having a hard time. It shows real character progression on both their parts."

Everyone smiled. Dr. Brennan was so wise. And lovely. And her melodious alto, slightly husky when she was caught by a memory, or some strong emotion ...

(Downstairs, the remaining Sea Chimps groaned and belly-flopped into the pool. This was getting ridiculous.)

Hodgins stroked his beard for a moment, then thought. "Well, two more things, and then we can get to the good, gushy stuff. Cam had sleeves on, very nice, and I thought there was a weird loose end they could have wrapped up, since it seemed like maybe the killer was trying to frame Booth. Not so sure, that part of the story was kind of inchoate."

Everyone nodded. "Yeah, that was hinky," said Brennan, then gave everyone her Evil Death Glare when they startled at her use of the slang. "Come on. Booth says hinky all the time on the show. You'd think I couldn't pick up any popular expressions? Give me some credit."

Everyone shrank from the force of Brennan's fierce blue-eyed stare, except for Booth, whose hand drew circles on her thigh under the table. Bones was quite adept at the slang, and the dirty talk, too. He snorted to himself at all the dirty things she'd said in the truck during the break between post-ep wrap ups, then reminded himself to watch what he was thinking. T-Rated fic, Seeley boy, T-Rated fic.

He clapped his hands to get everyone's attention. "Okay, people, it's swoon time. Last scene of the episode. Everyone name a favorite part, just a few sentences each, and your reasons why. You can Snoopy Dance when we're done."

Hodgins went first, feeling brave. "The way the disco lights made Dr. B's eyes sparkle and highlighted her ethereal beauty."

Angela smiled. "How Booth and Bren were holding hands like it was the most natural thing in the world, and not just because Bren needed help staying up. Although that was cute, too, the childlike smile on her face and the way she laughed with him like we don't see her laugh with anyone else."

Cam looked off in the distance. "The way Dr. Brennan seemed to be willing to voice an insecurity about Agent Perotta, even in a somewhat backhanded manner, and how Booth understood and assured her that he didn't want to change how things stood with his Bones."

Sweets Angela-squeed. Just a little. But still. "The way Agent Booth said he was '_always here_' for Dr. Brennan, and that he was never going to make her fall."

Wendell sighed. "That cute little smile on Agent Booth's face when Dr. Brennan said he was the only Agent she wanted to work with."

The team then looked at the two partners expectantly. They were looking only at one another, as they often did, having a Deep Meaningful Moment (cough, eyesex, cough)-- each one ran their fingers delicately over the lips of the other before they started to speak, their voices thick with emotion.

Brennan, her blue eyes the color of a warm summer day, the sky so deep as you looked up that you felt like you could float upwards forever, said huskily, "The way Booth willingly told me that he feared that he was like his father, so that I could assure him with every ounce of conviction in me that he wasn't."

Booth, his chocolate brown eyes warm with love and relief that his darling Bones accepted his past and wanted him in her life as her partner and maybe more, said "The way Bones never doubted that I wasn't the murderer, like she said that she wouldn't after Con Man in the Meth Lab, and the way she told me she thought I was made of very good stuff."

Everyone else swooned, then swooned again for good measure. Then they all got up and Snoopy Danced, Angela-squeeing to a one, before swooning some more. Shipper-licious, indeed.


	21. The Hero in the Hold

**Hero in the Hold**

_I may be earning some enemies with this post-episode wrap-up. I've got to say that while I recognize the importance of this epi to the overall arc, this was NOT the best episode of Bones ever, much as the producers would have liked us to believe. While yes, the end hug was very satisfying, the episode as a whole was **not** how I would have liked it to be. But I'll let the wrap-up speak for itself._

_And-- a big thank you to the many folks who PM'd me to ask what I thought. It took me a bit to wrap my mind around the epi. Sorry for the delay, and as always, I'm so flattered and grateful that you'd care what I thought!_

_There is also a spoiler for the season closer as reported by TV Guide, so please be warned._

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As the Sea Chimps stood on the platform, watching Booth and Brennan dangle Jack Hodgins Epps-like over the railing from the lounge, even they were hard-pressed to feel sorry for Jack—though of course, in fan-fiction, he'd merely bounce if our two heroes let go. Plus, the Sea Chimps would catch him—they'd already told Brennan and Booth as much telepathically.

*_Just don't let him know that_* said Booth.

*_I will feed you to killer whales if you do_* added Brennan, and the krill shuddered. Yes, they were the size of small children, but killer whales were still bigger. And Brennan would do it, totally.

*_We won't_* assured Tinky-Winky.

"You almost got Bones blown up," growled Booth, ready to rip Hodgins' head off as the rich entomologist's blithe and privileged disregard for the chain of evidence threatened more lives and more cases, this time his Bones. Booth would never trust Jack again.

Brennan, heedless of the danger to her, but crazy-eyed still at the thought that Hodgins' obsessive tampering could have cost her the life of the one person she trusted utterly, hissed, eyes narrowed. "You should have come to me, Jack. How could you betray me like this? How could you betray all of us? I would have helped you, gotten you the evidence you needed legally. We both would have." Brennan would never trust Jack again. She stifled the pain in her heart that a second member of her team had betrayed her. She wondered if the producers would actually let her suffer some crushing doubts about continuing on at the lab this time, or whether they'd brush her heartache under the rug again, such that _Princess and the Pear_ would just be _Yanks in the UK_ with fantasy geeks.

Booth nodded in grim agreement with his Bones, that muscle at his jaw jumping so quickly that Jack could almost hear the Agent's teeth cracking as he ground them together.

Cam, Angela, Sweets, Jared and Agent Perotta all looked on impassively and uninterfering, much as during the episode-- with the exception of Jared's welcome sticking his neck out for his brother and his Dark-Booth-like willingness to torture the Gravedigger, and Perotta's feeble, poorly-explained, halfhearted and/or disjointed attempts to tail and derail the team. Jack knew it was no good appealing for help until the partners decided he'd learned his lesson—either that, or they killed him. He wasn't sure what. They both had the capacity, as conveyed by their actors' pressed lips, stone faces, and crazy eyes-- each would kill not just to save but to avenge.

In truth, Jack wasn't surprised find himself where he was. The episode had been suspenseful, yes, but it was choppy, with so many unresolved plot holes that the closing impression was really cheesy Swiss cheese. Especially Brennan's seeing that ghost at the end. That was especially cheesy. Sure, Booth could have seen him—figment of his imagination, literal ghost, fading flicker of madness were all possibilities, Dark Booth was DARK after all—but to have Brennan see Teddy too? Was it too soon for the series to jump the ectoplasmic shark? He shuddered. Jack wondered if pointing out these problems might earn him some mercy, or at least allow him to atone for his errors before the two partners killed him. He wasn't sure, though, if the ep would have been better if it was a two-shot. Continuity really sucked this season. The writers needed more real fans on staff.

"Would it help if I did the entire recap myself?" he heard himself ask hoarsely.

The partners exchanged a silent glance, then Brennan nodded. "You start, I'll decide later."

"Make it good," added Booth, his eyes dark as obsidian.

Jack tried to breathe deeply, clear his mind, and start with the problems.

"First off, Dr. B. should have decked me at some point as well as the Gravedigger, and not just that briefcase swat, though at leasthat was _something_. When did Dr. B. become such a wuss? And-- didn't I learn my lesson about compromising evidence before? Are they going to fire me? Am I going to resign? I mean, Booth, you practically killed me the last time I monkeyed with evidence, and no one's life was on the line then. And the writers sorely deprived Dr. B. of a cognate to when Booth whipped Vega on the table and threatened to kill him. I think Dr. B. wouldn't have been out of character to do that at all, even to me, and I hope at least I'm suspended for a few episodes for continuity's sake, as well as some nod to serious procedural considerations—though it looks like I won't, if the stills for _Princess and the Pear_ are any guide."

"I can't believe they let you out on a field trip," Booth growled.

In the background, Cam winced. She figured she'd probably have approved it, though really, if the show were serious about legal consequences and procedural consistency, Jack would be out on his ass.

Brennan flicked him a glance, then glared down at Jack. "Go on," she said, her eyes as blue, sharp and cold as an iceberg.

"Second, why exactly did the Gravedigger kill Bizarro Vega? Was she getting rid of an accomplice? Was he on to her? And what the hell happened to that journalist ghostwriter chick? And if Jared did all that spring cleaning, where the hell was all her money?"

Jared's eyes narrowed. He hadn't thought of that. And… he was going to need the bail money if the Navy handed him over to the feds rather than court-martialed him. Well, maybe Tempe would float bail for him if that was the case, maybe hire Caroline's ex-husband to defend him, just like her dad. After all, her dad's actor would be out the rest of the season with his legal problems. There was time for more eps with his character. Hell, maybe Tempe would create reasonable doubt for him in the courtroom while making meaningful eyes at his brother, even though he was guilty, and this time it would finally prompt the big courthouse steps passionate and all-consuming kiss that viewers were cruelly denied (yet _again_) in _Verdict_. Even Jared, now that he'd had a few epis to reflect, could see that Tempe and Seeley were soul mates.

Jack, thinking further, continued. "And… that damned piece of foil from my leg? After all that fuss you'd think Jared could at least confirm that it came from the truck his spring cleaning found."

The characters standing behind Booth and Brennan all nodded. Jack had it right so far—he might yet redeem himself.

Jack drew a deep breath and continued. "The product placements were outright offensive this time, what with Booth's life on the line. I mean-- Brennan's harping on her built-in GPS, the prominent shot of the hybrid SUV, Jared's having to pimp his i-Phone-- as if you could just download secure information onto a consumer-level phone."

"Okay so far," gritted Booth. "What else?" His expression told Hodgins he'd better damned well keep going.

"Well, it was nice that Sweets finally chose the side of the team, rather than the Bureau's —he stepped out at Cam's insistence initially, but later rethought things and helped Ange at the bomb site and later on. That showed commitment to us, rather than to the Bureau, and hopefully indicates his coming down on the side of preserving the Booth/Brennan partnership if they ever do hook up."

Sweets nodded silently, wondering as they all did what the producers' leak about "serious consequences" in the series ender when Booth and Brennan FINALLY slept together actually meant. PLEASE, he thought to himself. They had to get together EVENTUALLY. The partners were SOULMATES. If the producers left viewers with an angsty cliffhanger who _knew_ what would happen? Fangirls and fanboys all over might just cry all summer. Antidepressant prescriptions might go up _all over_. Totally. And while that might bump a portion of the faltering economy, the sheer number of angst-fics over the summer hiatus could well lead to some serious problems. As well as seriously bad angst-fics. PLEASE, he thought. No suicide fics. He was begging fic-authors.

"Anything more?" hissed Brennan, nostrils flaring as she intentionally dug her painted fingernails into Jack's wrist.

Jack closed his eyes, determined to concentrate past the pain much as Brennan had to work past the agonizing thought that Booth might die yet _again_ in order to drive the team to find where Booth was.

"It was a real team effort, though Cam didn't have much to do except to accede to Dr. Brennan's authority in this episode. Which was fitting, really, since Dr. B. is Queen Bee. But I got to do some dirt analysis, Angela did that voice recognition analysis that let us identify that Booth was somewhere near the water, and caught the aquarium connection, and Jared really did step up to the plate in the face of Dr. B.'s vicious and truthful calling him on the carpet."

Cam nodded. Jack's assessment was true. She got to do a bit of work on Vega's corpse, but in the end, it had been Jared's spring cleaning that led to Booth's rescue—as spurred by Brennan's crazy-eyed determination. She was even more spurred to action this time than in _Killer in the Concrete_.

Jack closed his eyes, thinking further. "They also didn't give Booth much credit, and there were continuity blips. In Skull in the Sculpture, he gets ready to pick a lock, but in this epi his ghost tells him he still can't pick a lock. I mean, WTF, dude?"

Booth nodded. That was true. "Keep going," he said, not relaxing the stone cast of his face. The footage of how close Bones came to being Bones-smithereens still chilled him. It would just become one more of the nightmares that haunted him—the many nightmares of losing his Bones.

Jack swallowed. "You were a Sergeant in the Rangers, fer chrissakes. You would have to know more about electronics than they gave you credit for with that ship transmitter. You should have been able to re-wire it, only to have the Gravedigger have already anticipated your ingenuity and booby-trapped it to short. You should have been able to be more selective in which wires to choose."

Booth nodded, and Brennan, recognizing how hard Jack was trying, spoke again, though her tone was still cold and even.

"So far, not bad. What else?"

Jack thought as cold sweat beading his forehead and running in cold runnels over his spine. Even as a meta-fan-fictional character, his shoulders and arms burned, his lungs struggling for air under his weight as the superhumanly strong partners dangled him over the floor effortlessly, like so much else in their partnership.

"Booth showed good and Ranger-appropriate ingenuity in blowing his way out to the stairwell, just like Dr. B. blew our way out of the car. That was a nice parallel, both of you making it possible at the critical moment for the other to complete the rescue, working from both ends to meet in the middle, like partners, like always. But I don't get how someone the size of that woman managed to fit you in that toy sub, Booth. You're a big guy, I mean, in a lean and muscular way-- how'd she get you out of your apartment and into the sub if she didn't have help, maybe Vega?"

Booth nodded, starting to be satisfied. That was a nice parallel, now that he thought of it. Although the part where he hesitated between Teddy and Bones calling to him from the helicopter was dumb—Teddy had already absolved him of his past, and Booth had agreed with him. He should have run toward Bones-- his future, the woman he loved--as soon as she called to him. And the lack of a really compelling and heart-tearing song as he ran toward her, leapt into the helicopter, and they clung to each other for dear life as the boat blew up behind them was kind of disappointing, at least for whichever band could have made bajillions of dollars on i-Tunes within an hour of the episode's airing. Although he did like the way his actor let his usual stoic expression falter as he held on to Bones—it looked, for once, like she was the one giving the guy hug—or perhaps at least they both were.

"You're starting to make me think I won't have at you in a dark room with a razor-blade," Booth said darkly. "Keep going."

Jack suppressed a whimper. Booth would do whatever he felt like, dark rooms and razor blades included. He was nothing but Dark Haunted Strong Booth this episode, once the Stupid-Not-Looking-Through-the-Peephole-and-Getting-Himself-Captured-Booth thing was over. What the hell was up with that? What kind of Ranger was he? At least the writers could have had him get clocked over the head right as he was getting into the truck, and not head-on at his front door. First the rock-key, now this? WTF, writers?

"Well, we saw more of your apartment, which was nice. And you did look great in that tux, even parted your hair rather than going for that artfully mussed thing," Jack added, "and Dr. B. looked stunning as always, even in the midst of nearly getting exploded. She runs really fast in heels, too. I wonder, too, but I guess Caroline Julian couldn't be in this episode because she would have helped the team, and that would have sped the denouement, right? But it might have been fun to have her give the Gravedigger another b*tchslap with that briefcase for tainting the integrity of the prosecutorial system."

Cam nodded. That would have been good. She loved Caroline's actress.

"Also—it was a nice touch, having Dr. B. get you a replacement belt-buckle, concede that there is more in Heaven and Earth than was dreamt of in her scientific philosophy (Temperance), and, well, Angie and Cam looked nice in their dresses. Though I don't understand why I wasn't going too-- it didn't seem like a gala, and you'd think I'd be interested in supporting Dr. B. in a professional recognition-type thing. Plus, my fangirls would have thought I looked good in a tux."

Brennan nodded—these were all valid points.

Below, the Sea Chimps refrained from bursting into song as Jack noted where Brennan and Booth looked handsome and beautiful. It wasn't appropriate under the circumstances—though each sang to themselves in their heads.

"I might not let go," said Brennan, eyes still cold as frozen nitrogen. "What else did you notice?"

Jack breathed deeply. "Those voiceprints from the two episodes' phone calls sounded nothing alike, despite Ange's bullsh*t reconciliation of the voiceprints. I mean, the sound engineer for the show couldn't manipulate the sounds enough to make them sound more similar, or at least re-record the old one for this epi, old epi one be damned? I mean, if cross-episode consistency isn't possible, let's at least have some intra-episode consistency. Lame, dude. And while Bizarro Vega did at least look somewhat like Real Vega, it was lame to bring him in for that one meeting and then knock him off without Brennan or I getting to get all squinty-medieval on him, even if it was just out in the hallway after that weird meeting with the judge."

Booth was beginning to relent as well. "You're squinting pretty well, there, Hodgins. Keep going, and I won't crush your skull like an egg."

Jack nodded. "Okay. Parallels. Nice to have a final scene with the two of you standing together like you sat together in the church at the end of _Aliens_. While the end scene of this epi wasn't the '_I knew you wouldn't give up_' that spawned a thousand fanvids, it was good to see the two of you just _being_ together again. And I liked the way you both were forced to confront the fact that you loved each other while you were apart—while neither one of you said it when you were reunited in that fantastic and all-too-short desperate embrace in the helio, fans can plausibly believe it's now just a matter of time."

Booth and Brennan exchanged one of their laden glances, then as one hauled Hodgins back up over the ledge—though they didn't hesitate to unceremoniously toss him forward to land, belly-flop style, on the hard metal floor of the lounge.

"Good enough," they both said, then headed downstairs together, not looking back.

The characters all watched the partners walk off together, weariness and relief both present in both their carriages. Booth's hand found its home at Brennan's back—but Brennan's hand slowly crept its way up between Booth's shoulder blades. Both partners' backs straightened slightly as they strode off, toward what each character desperately hoped would be a good and un-angsty season closer.

After all—Brennan could teach at a University, and Booth could become Deputy Director, allowing them to have nine million beautiful crimefighting babies, right? They wouldn't have to break them up altogether if they did sleep together. PLEASE?

The Sea Chimps all looked at each other, nodding seriously. They had some serious Vulcan-mind-melding to do on the producers and writers, starting NOW. They made their quiet way off the platform to their champagne-fueled pool. It was time for some Group-Sea-Chimp-Think. Totally.


	22. The Princess and the Pear

**_Many apologies for the delay in getting this posted, many thanks and flattered blushes for all the comments and PMs from folks wanting to know where the heck this chapter was, and many mad props to MickeyBoggs, Dawnsfire, SuchAGoodGirl, Doctorsuez, and Celtic33 for their thoughts and information in putting this one together._**

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**The Princess and the Pear**

The characters were all sitting around the table in the upstairs lounge, in various states of boredom, annoyance, impatience and just plain old antsy-ness. (Is that a word? Whatever. ) Or maybe Sweets just had one too many coffees and needed to go to the bathroom. Badly. Totally badly.

Just then, an unfamiliar tread made its way up the stairs. The characters all looked over, relieved at least that something or someone had come along to alleviate their annoyance and boredom at having to wait so damned long for their author to get around to writing this fiction. Downstairs, the Sea Chimps were on their 500th rendition of _99 Bottles of Cristal on the Wall_, sung as ever in perfect four-part harmony.

Booth was on alert to the unfamiliar tread, as always watching out for his beautiful, wonderful Bones. After that damned Blondie let Bones get run off the road, he wasn't letting the brunette, not black-haired, _**brunette, goddamnit**_-- _what the hell was wrong with the writers, even hopped up on Vicodin Booth wouldn't mess up something like that because haven't they seen their own show and how often Booth looks at his sexy, scintillating, brilliant Bones when she's not looking?!?_-- ahem, _anyway_,_**brunette**_ love of his life out of his sight, even if it was totally hot the way she kicked the ass of that knight and displayed some mad-sexy sword moves. Because guys love a woman who really knows how to handle a sword. But still. She could have been killed. He gave Blondie a glare over the table and she shrank a bit, shifting her chair closer to Hodgins.

Just then, the approaching person crested the stairs. It was a woman, mid-thirties, with mid-brown hair, green eyes, and pale skin that was more Boston-pasty-in-March than Brennan-like-luminous. And she came bearing two platters of Magic Cookie Bars-- Booth could smell them from where he was sitting, he knew the smell of that buttery-chocolatey-peanut buttery-coconut and walnuty confection that plucked every sweet-loving taste bud he had. Well, almost every sweet taste bud. He had ones specially reserved for the indescribable taste of his Bones' sweet kisses and skin and _T-rated fic, T-rated fic, T-rated fic_.

But this woman? Everyone, even Booth, was puzzled. This was no character they'd ever seen before. Was she some extra they were going to have to run Angela's mass recognition program on against old DVDs? Booth wracked his brain, as did Brennan, whose photographic memory was usually excellent as to people she'd met, even if sometimes she was too distracted by her driving need for justice to be completely polite and observe all the social niceties. Booth could tell she was no threat, his semi-psychic powers told him she had nothing but a completely harmless but near-obsessive love for him and his lovely, wonderful Bones, but he still didn't know who she was. He was irked. Brennan, too. Both their brows furrowed adorably in irkdom.

Smiling tentatively, the woman approached the table and held out a whole platter of Magic Cookie Bars to Booth, and set the other one in the midst of the table. Booth gave her a smile and set to immediately-- he was hungry. As he lifted the first cookie bar to his mouth, the motion highlighted his long, masculine fingers. Every female character and not a few of the male ones (okay, all of them, because really, Booth and Brennan are like two hot supernovas) watched on in desire as Booth snarfed the first cookie bar, then licked his fingers. What they wouldn't give to be those fingers, they thought. And man, Booth looked great in that suit. Way better than those boring white boxers at the start of the episode. Because really-- a guy who wears wacky socks isn't going to go for boring old boxers. They must have had a shortage of looney toons shorts in Wardrobe that day.

"Hi, everyone," came the mystery woman's semi-melodious alto, as she sat at the one seat left open between Sweets and Cam. "Sorry I'm so late getting here, I know you and the readers have all been waiting."

"Ooooohhhhh," breathed Hodgins.

"Duuuuuddde," exhaled Sweets.

Agent Perotta's pretty yet hated-on blonde forehead crinkled-- she wasn't quite sure who this woman was. Cam and Angela, however, looked over this one-week only female visitor, who was wearing a well-tailored, red professional suit, including a weather-appropriate long-sleeved jacket and blouse with a rather striking brooch, and both smiled.

"You look nice in red, blc," Cam said, smiling. "Although I always thought you'd be taller."

Angela smiled at the author. "Like your sleeves, girlfriend. You look nice and warm."

"Thanks, Ange," said the author, then shot Ange a wink and another one at Cam for good measure. She thought Cam was hot, Ange too. Totally. But she kept that to herself. She was so damned late writing this fic that it was Bonesday Eve, for Bones' sake. She needed to get this sucker up and posted before the new episode aired. She didn't have time for idle mooning over the extreme attractiveness of the entire show's main cast (hell, even Sweets, with his nerdy/pouty/hot lips) when there was a post-ep wrap up to wrap up.

"I brought Magic Cookie Bars," she said, motioning to the tray she'd placed in the midst of the table. "Feel free to help yourselves while I apologize for being so late."

Everyone dug in, remembering from Serendipity and her other fics that blc was a damned good cook, although this particular recipe was just the one from the condensed milk can. "Mmmmph..." groaned Hodgins, licking his fingers at the first bite. "You're forgiven," he mumbled, then took another mouth-filling bite. Each other character joined in, groaning in ecstasy at the sweet, buttery bites of sugar-coma inducing goodness, forgiving the author instantly for the fact that she had a pesky _job_ and dropped her laptop and crashed her hard drive and only got the new hard drive today (warranty! w00t!) and in any event was so annoyed by this episode that she just couldn't get this fic going before now. (Whew. That was long.)

After hand-feeding one another a Magic Cookie Bar in a way that had every woman at the table clenching their thighs and every guy at the table totally sprung as their coffee cups and the cookie platters rose from the table and the Sea Chimps burst into the Hallelujah Chorus while tulips fell from the air, Brennan and Booth smiled dazzlingly at their author, who'd written them such long and extensive smut scenes in her other fics that _damn_, even they were tired, and they had the insatiable sexual appetites of beautiful fictional characters. Mr. Fisher, who'd read one or two of those fics (okay, all of them, blc did leave them hanging nearly two weeks, did she really think he wasn't going to go straight to the M-Rated ones?) wondered if blc was married and if she liked Goth guys and whether she had a Pear of Anguish. Which maybe, given her fics, it wouldn't be so bad if she used it on him.

"Sorry Mr. Fisher, while the answer to number two would be yes, I like geeks even more, and I am married to one," said the author. Sweets and Hodgins both straightened, exchanging bright smiles. They were geeks in their own way, weren't they?

"Speaking of geeks," Brennan said, her expression indignant, "I don't understand why the writers had me say '_Greeks_?' when Mr. Fisher said '_geeks_' during this episode. I _know_ in the past that I've bared a part of my delicate, still-healing soul by revealing how I was taunted for being a '_foster geek_' during high school, then did that trembly-chin glittery-eye thing that makes Booth get all mushy."

Booth nodded. It did make him all mushy and gushy when Bones did that, and yet it made him feel like a guy when he was able to make her smile and laugh again. Oh, such conflict-- to love someone whose pain you wanted to heal, and yet also be proud that she would bear her soul to him when she would entrust her heart to no one else, thereby making each angsty moment ever-more precious.

"I agree, Dr. Brennan," the author said. "It was one of so many things that were wrong with this episode. Its only real completely satisfying segment was where you got to show off your remarkable combat skills-- though I wish you'd have had the chance to explain how you know how to handle a broadsword, how you know all those moves, and at what point in your amorphous pre-Jeffersonian past you learned those self-same skills. But at least they re-affirmed your physical prowess and mad know-everything-skillz."

Brennan colored prettily, then said "Call me Bones," recalling all the times that blc never called her Tempe or Bones all the way through a fic, when it was clear that she was only Bones through Booth's POV, and that she still referred to herself as Temperance or Brennan in her head. But for this author, she'd allow the familiarity. Booth, hoping for more M-Rated smut fics, said nothing, knowing that blc would never hone in on Bones. She understood the difference between fiction and reality. Didn't she?

"Hey!" grumbled Sweets, sitting next to the author. "Dr. Brennan said I couldn't when I asked her this episode, and I totally deserved to, totally. I mean, I gave her mad props, turned into a total fanboy, was very clear and gentle with Dr. Brennan in the car when I reminded her in a non-condescending way about correcting people, I totally helped with the auction, _and_ I integrated myself more with the team, acting less and less as a potentially divisive force as my character arc continues to develop."

Brennan turned to Sweets to smile at him lightly. "It's true, Sweets, that you're becoming more of a help and less of a hindrance, but I still haven't completely forgiven you for _Pain in the Heart_, and until I do, I will always be Brennan to you. Though I do appreciate your giving me mad props. I will say, I deserved them. And it was rather cute the way you said it before you passed out, and the earnest way in which you thanked me for saving your life afterward, as you realized that I am fierce and all babe-like when I am protecting the people I care about."

Everyone at the table nodded, recalling Brennan's bad-assery. Brennan was _hot_, _smokin_' hot, when she was swinging that sword, and that intense look she got on her face while she was fighting was scary-sexy-damned hot. They all nearly swooned, then nearly swooned again for good measure. They also reflected that it was sweet the way Brennan came down from her adrenaline rush of whomping that knight to ask Sweets if he was okay with that cute concerned look on her face.

"Okay, people," said Cam, flicking a glance at their author to see if she'd object to her getting the wrap up moving along some more. "Little one off stuff first, let's get the brains in gear before we dig into the really annoying stuff in this episode."

blc nodded, waiting to see who'd go first.

Mr. Fisher, the man brave enough to sleep with the hot older scary Goth chick went first. "Two things. One, I enjoyed again how my glumness and self-deprecation prompted Dr. Brennan to wax philosophical rather than technical, as she did in _Crank in the Shaft_. It's nice to see that side of her, since we know she's a best-selling author and therefore has to have some way with words. Those moments are nice proof of that. And, I found myself quite endearing as well as amusing, and I think I'm pretty much right behind Wendell for favorite Intern O' the Week. Second, I found it remarkably odd that after I went to all that trouble to find the murder weapon, there wasn't a field trip to the suspect's apartment for us to find the actual weapon, rather than obtain a confession through poetry."

Sweets, who'd thought his poetry move was pretty damned clever stiffened, though he saw Mr. Fisher's point. He set aside the unintended jab at himself for the moment, and continued the discussion. "It was unfortunate, too, that we learned next to nothing about the victim. All we know is she was a shallow hot babe with no appreciation for movie props. Why the hell would an educated Renaissance guy like Kroom fall in love with her in the first place? Why don't we know more about the actual murder, including why he ditched the body where he did? And how in hell did the writers actually think that burying the sword in such shallow dirt wouldn't lead to its being uncovered almost immediately? That whole scene where Dr. Hodgins and Ms. Montenegro went out to find it with the metal detector was hinky, too."

Hodgins nodded. "I agree. No carry over from _Hero in the Hold_, either. I mean, I'm allowed out on field trips? Dr. B. hasn't killed me? Booth, either? Because I totally would if I was them. I mean, hey, I'm the lab's biggest donor, but even _I _would have fired me. WTF, writers? This season's lack of continuity totally sucks. I mean, I have to invent new words to describe how discontinuous this season is. Noncontinuous. Uncontinuerized. Discontinuficationed. I mean, not to repeat myself here, but WTF, writers?"

There was a chorus of Sea Chimps composing a ditty called "_WTF Writers_" downstairs. The characters all snorted and hoped the tune would be catchy, maybe a Motown beat like "_I Heard it Through the Grapevine"_ or something. "Dude, love the chimps," Sweets murmured under his breath to the author. She patted his arm, ignored his nerdy/pouty/hot lips, and got back to working her mental mojo to move the wrap up along.

Booth nodded. "I know. I should have totally killed you or beat the crap out of you by now. And we don't know what's going to happen to Jared, although spoilers for the end of the season seem to indicate that there will be some more serious, maybe even angsty interaction with my Dad and grandfather."

"Oooh. Booth angst. Love that," said Mr. Fisher. His black nail polish made him more willing to admit aloud his total mancrush on Booth. Sweets and Hodgins agreed silently.

"I was completely annoyed by several things that I'll get out of the way," blc added. "Again, Angela's wardrobe was completely uneven-- she was sporting that weird long-sleeved plaid thing and then in the scene where Hodgins is offering friends-with-benefits sex, she's all sleeveless again. And she had nothing squinty to do at all in the episode, which is really annoying, because I hate seeing any female character treated like lab eye candy."

Angela smiled. "Thanks. And I thought it was strange that Bren with her knowledge of medieval weaponry wasn't the one to figure out, at least in tandem with Mr. Fisher, what the murder weapon was. Bren needs to work more of that science-based mojo, she was too much the semi-clueless sidekick in this episode, even with the sword-swinging."

Agent Perotta cleared her throat, bracing herself for the characters who would bring on the hate. She shouldn't care, as far as she could tell this was her character's last episode, but still-- the inconsistencies with her character were symptomatic and illustrative of other problems this season. "I thought the whole '_you have no idea, do you'_ interaction with Dr. Brennan was lame, and yet another example of the writers' ridiculous belief that Dr. Brennan has no idea why Agent Booth is so protective. After _Wannabe_ and _Pain_, it would be clear, even to someone as clueless as the WTF writers seem to thing she is, that Agent Booth's protectiveness stems not just from mere friendship, but from something truer and deeper than that. They should have had Brennan's actor break eye contact or allowed some other subtle, fleeting expression pass over her face to indicate to obsessive Bones-watchers who re-watch each episode online like a jillion times that she has serious unresolved angst over Booth's death that is bound to make its way out in a violent expression of emotion that we all hope will lead to some sweet lovin' down by the fire."

There was a chorus of "Amen to that's" from the characters, except for Booth, Brennan and blc, who shared a mind-meld moment where blc promised to write them yet another smut-fic, this time actually featuring sweet lovin' down by the fire.

FBI Barbie continued. "And I didn't like the way they had me be catty to her at the start with that '_aggravating_' crack. Poor Brennan had to be feeling bad enough about Booth without my cracking on her."

"Tell me about it," said Hodgins, wondering if he could score some points with Blondie, since it seemed like for now the writers weren't going to put he and Ange back in the sack. I mean, WTF, writers? "I also thought it strange that they would make you allow Booth in on the teleconference when he was so obviously intoxicated from his Vicodin-- not only did it underestimate the intelligence and self-possession you've shown in other episodes, but it was too jokey and disrespectful in the context of the interview with the victim's father."

Perotta pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Yes-- unless the writers thought that it was some way for me to cat-fight with Brennan after her not particularly welcoming speech when I first got to the lab and she said she'd asked for me rather than break in a new agent."

Cam snorted her coffee all over her Magic Cookie Bar. "Sorry there, Blondie. I thought that was a great moment. I laughed my ass off when Brennan said that."

Everyone else nodded, agreeing. At least Brennan was getting to deliver more overtly hilarious lines with a straight face. Her actor was great at that.

Brennan shifted in her chair, preparing herself for a speech as she defended her brave, handsome Booth. She gave him a deep, trusting glance, then spoke from her heart. "What I'd like to address is the completely erratic way they've treated Booth, yet again. First, there's the issue of his apartment. In Season 1, he has this huge place with red walls and lots of nice and yet minimalist wooden furniture and a door that opens to the outside, not a hallway, and at some point he says that he has a garage, yet now he's got a small place completely cluttered with kitsch over a liquor store? WTF, writers? First, I don't think Booth would live over a liquor store because of the exposure to Parker, and second, when I burst into his bathroom in _Pain_, I say I got the key from under the fake rock, when how could he possibly have one if he lived on a busy city block in an apartment building?"

Booth nodded, tucking a curl of hair away from his exquisite Bones' alabaster cheek before speaking. "Yeah. I mean, did I get a demotion or something? I mean, I assume I pay child support, but if I could swing all those suits and that much nicer place in the first season, I don't understand why I got downgraded. I mean, I don't make a mint like Bones does, but there's no logical explanation for the change except Hodgins' discontinuiterization paradox. I also don't like the decor at my place-- I mean, an aqua retro fridge? Come on. I'm quirky, not kitschy. And what was up with all that cluttery decorative crap all over my place? I'm a sniper, for God's sake. You'd think I would want a minimum of clutter around so it wouldn't get in the way in case some old enemies of mine from the past try to break into my apartment and get all ninja on me. That stupid bowling pin I used for a pillow is just dumb, and hardly would allow for the use of deadly force. I mean, assault and battery with a bowling pin? WTF, writers?"

Cam nodded. "But at least now we know you have a laptop, wi-fi and a webcam."

Booth nodded. "Apparently. Although it was a product placement laptop, just like Hodgins says."

Hodgins practically swooned. Two big ups from Booth in one episode, first with the discontinuiterization quote, and then an acknowledgment of his product placement conspiracy theory. Booth was so hot. And kind. And hot. But something bothered him.

"Dude, what I don't get is this. You're like, Mr. Sniper Who Can Withstand Lots of Torture, and maybe even Mr. I Withstood Lots of Parental Abuse Instead of My Brother and Mom, right?"

Booth nodded. It wasn't entirely clear, more like it was just insinuated, but he got that impression from past episodes.

"And yet, you get so hopped up on Vicodin that you don't even know the color of your true love's hair, and in _Killer in the Concrete_, you're a total baby when it comes to that tooth that's bothering you. Hell, you're a total whiner about your back in _Perfect Pieces in the Purple Pond_ and in this episode, too. WTF, writers?"

Brennan nodded agreement. "We're back to Goofy Stupid Booth all over again. Don't they know we just want consistent, serious, sometimes sarcastic, occasionally Dark/Angsty Booth, with lots of tender eyesex moments with me? Although, I must say, my insides just turned to goo at the start at the episode when Booth gave me the _'there's no one I'd trust to have my back and fix my back_' line with that smile at the start, then asked '_Need more_?' when I started to smile at him."

"That was adorable," Angela added, smiling at the memory. "And your smile was especially brilliant, sweetie, which seemed to indicate the continuing and increasing closeness between you and Mr. FBI Hotness there, as well as the way you were coming and going from his apartment. Although, and honey, don't take this the wrong way, but that outfit in the last scene made your hips and thighs look kind of thick."

Brennan frowned in recollection. She had curves like a regular woman, which made her particularly attractive to female characters, but sometimes the people in wardrobe seemed to be smoking from the _'we hate women with hips_' bong. blc, who also had hips, nodded in silent agreement.

Cam, noting Dr. Brennan's annoyance, rushed to add that "Your makeup was lovely, Dr. Brennan, and your costume in the scene where you fought the knight was really quite flattering."

Brennan smiled gently at the pathologist, and Cam nearly swooned. She resolved all over again to tell Dr. Brennan something nice every wrap-up just so she could be on the other end of that smile.

Mr. Fisher chimed in and proved his perceptiveness, making everyone's heart twist at the thought of having to make a choice between him and Wendell. "The end scene was incredibly dissatisfying. Agent Booth told Dr. Brennan in _Fire in the Ice_ not to worry about Agent Perotta, and yet she booked off as soon as Perotta showed up as if she didn't believe him and was still feeling threatened. The fact that Booth didn't call her to make her come back, or that he let her leave in the first place is more than dissatisfying-- it's actually kind of disturbing. Plus? No eyesex, which is the best way to end any episode, though there have been a dozen or so where there hasn't been some kind of tete-a-tete between our two heroes."

Sweets added another thought. "Back to Dr. Hodgins' uncontinuitiousness paradox-- it was winter, with snow on the ground, in _Fire in the Ice_, and yet they only needed coats in _Hero_ and _Princess _even though the original United States air dates take place in winter. It's like they're not even trying to make the episodes keep pace with the year."

Everyone rolled their eyes. The timeline of the episodes was royally screwed up. Royally. (Hey. Totally's getting old. I'm trying to mix it up here for you, people.)

blc spoke, adding one positive comment. "While I found the whole Goofy Stupid Booth Hopped Up on Vicodin thing rather distasteful, I did find it utterly charming and sweet the way Booth freaked out on Agent Perotta when he found out about the encounter with Kroom, and how he was instantly trying to get to his Bones even as he could barely walk and was so out of it that he kept trying to holster his gun on his very low-slung sweatpants. His use of the phrase _'if anything happens to her_' was also nicely evocative of _Aliens in the Spaceship_, and reminded us that no matter how out of it Booth may be otherwise, his passion for Brennan transcends almost everything."

Sweets nodded. "It was. There were a few other minor points that we should acknowledge. It was cute to see the little Parker touches, though, including the brightly-colored bike helmet and backpack hanging on the coatrack inside the door of Agent Booth's apartment, and despite everything, I thought they didn't mess up the portrayal of fantasy and sci-fi geeks too much. I mean, yeah, they are geeks, but everyone has stuff they're geeky about, and Dr. Brennan's comment about the intersection of the commercial enterprises at these shows with the dispossessed was a nice capture of the paradox inherent in fan conventions."

blc nodded. She had a rather large and geeky collection of sci-fi and fantasy books, though hers tended toward the Strong Female Characters sub-genre, not the Dudes Wearing Furs and Swinging Barely-Disguised Phallic Substitutes sub-genre. Sweets was right, though. People were geeks about their own things, even Booth. After all, Booth was a comic book and vintage car geek, Brennan was a book-writing and bones-squinting geek, Cam got all hot and bothered by romance novels, Hodgins was a conspiracy geek, Sweets was the Star Wars Geek To End All Geeks, and Angela, well? She wasn't sure what kind of geek Angela way. Maybe a sexually inappropriate comments geek. She'd have to think about that.

"Well, folks," the author said. "It sounds like we're done here for this week. Again, I apologize for this taking so long, but I hope you all feel like you have some closure over this episode."

Everyone looked around, nodding. Brennan, who spoke for the group, said acerbically "More closure here than with the damned WTF writers."

Booth nodded. After all, really. WTF, writers? Although damn, he looked good in his suit and judging for next week's (okay, tomorrow's episode's) trailer, he got something besides a boring black suit. This one looked black and stripey. Baby steps.

blc nodded and waved, saying "Enjoy the rest of the cookies, everyone, and I promise it won't be so long the next time."

Everyone dug into the platter again, Sweets, Hodgins and Fisher eyeing the half-finished platter of cookies Booth had all to himself.

"Mmmf. This is like cookie pr0n," Brennan commented, licking her fingers. Everyone around the table swooned, then swooned again for good measure. What they wouldn't give to be Brennan's fingers.

"I really thought she'd be taller," Cam murmured to Angela, still intrigued by their author's appearance in their midst.

"Yeah," replied Angela. "But she did look good in that professional, long-sleeved and yet feminine suit."

blc smiled as she left the lab, the doors whisking shut behind her. She did look good in her suit. Not as good as Booth looked in his suit, but then really-- who did?


	23. The Bones that Foam

**The Bones that Foam**

"Meh." Sweets said, making a face with his nerdy/pouty/hot lips.

"So-so," said Hodgins, ruffling his cute and yet-again long enough to be curly hair. He was _so_ King of the Lab, and that was a good thing no matter what that fact-spouting Limey kid said.

"It was okay," said Angela, twining a lock of her especially curly and flattering hairdo this week around one long, crime-fighting finger.

"Not the worst it could have been," remarked Cam, a bit calmer now that this damned thing was over, and relieved she didn't take that shelaigleigh to the corpse.

"Did you know that there are ten thousand screenwriters in Hollywood, but that at any given time, about only five hundred are actually working on television shows or other productions?" said Mr. Nigel-Murray in his cute English voice, relieved that Dr. Saroyan seemed less likely to kill him now.

"Really?" asked Cam, willing to cut the kid some slack now that she knew why he was such a babbler all the time. He had done a pretty good job with the science and being informative, even if this was one of the least science-heavy shows she'd ever seen on this series.

Mr. Nigel-Murray shrugged. "No. It's just some made-up statistic that the author of this fiction put in my mouth in order to segue into her wish to express her conviction that the things wrong with this week's episode were mostly due to sloppy writing rather than ineffective direction. Since, after all, Booth's actor is hot, and while there's a snowball's chance in hell that he or the rest of the Bones production team actually reads these meta-criticism pieces, she doesn't want to hurt his feelings, since she is sure that he made the best out of what he had to work with."

Booth and Brennan, sitting down at one end of the table and too busy making goo-goo eyes at each other like they should have been allowed to continue to do so that the end scene was in the Mount Rushmore bar/dinner place (or whatever it's called, I'm calling it Rushmore's for that carving thing over the door in the two street scenes) rather than that completely ridiculous end scene with Booth storming off to a taxicab and abandoning Brennan in the middle of the intersection. "I never would have left you in the street like that, I hope you know that, Bones," Booth said, his voice warm and husky.

"I know," said Brennan, a knowing and loving look of understanding in her eyes. "Especially since the entire end scene and the scenes regarding autos with stickshifts were yet again discontinuificationerized. (Def., see, last week's wrap up re: _Princess_.) Considering that in _Yanks_ you kept screwing up stickshifts, which is stupid to begin with since you were in the army and restore vintage cars and thus ought to be assumed to know how to drive one, and yet in this episode you were indulging in that ridiculous display of macho terrorization masquerading as interrogation (interrorization? maybe...), and considering the fact that I showed in Yanks that I could drive a stick and have spent mysterious times in mysterious third world countries doing mysterious things-- so any monkey with a typewriter ought to be able to recall that I, too, know how to drive a stickshift. Plus, I owned a sportscar the first season. Clearly, yet again, we have a problem of..."

"WTF, WRITERS?" each character cried, finishing Brennan's sentence. After the characters were done with their exclamation, the Sea Chimps broke into song.

_"WTF Writers, you think you're so hot. But you're screwing up plotlines, so clearly you're not. So much for backstories and interepisode arcs, our favorite dramedy's becoming a farce_."

Po then broke into a falsetto chorus of "_A farce, no arcs, not hot, no plots_" as Dipsy, La-La, and Tinky-Winky did the bump and hummed the melody, before all four took up the next verse.

"_WTF Writers, we're totally pissed_." (_"Totally!"_ sang Po over the rest). "_This show is our favorite, one we refuse to miss. Booth and Brennan are awesome, the rest of the cast too, and yet you keep writing scripts that smell worse than this week's monkey poo._"

The Chimps repeated the chorus as the characters bopped their heads and tapped their toes to the Chimp's doo-wop style dis on the hurky-jerky nature of the last two episodes. Everyone laughed as Tinky-Winky ended the chorus with a long, drawn out, scale-descending, "_Mon-unh-key Poo-oo!_"

"Well, I feel better now," said Cam. "Thanks, Chimps."

"No problem," said La-La. "We have some Magic Cookie Bars baking downstairs in the break room. They should be ready when you guys are done."

Booth, Hodgins, and Sweets' eyes all lit up. "Awesome," said Sweets. "The author gave you the recipe?"

Po nodded and said in her squeaky high voice, "Yes. But she said she's not going to make an appearance this week because it's really your fiction and she has status reports to write at work."

"Eeew. Reporting," said Booth with a shudder. Shaking himself, he looked back at Brennan and stroked her cheek lightly and lovingly, causing the Sea Chimps to sprout attractive and functional wings. They looked at their backs, shrugged, and took flight from the lounge back down to their champagne swimming pool. "Anyway," he said, clearing his throat. I'm with Bones on the stickshift/driving thing, although I've got to say, it was kind of sexy and fun the way I got to terrorize Buddy in that interrogation and peel rubber in a fast car to boot."

Hodgins nodded. "It was fun. I wonder if that was originally in the script, or whether that was an ego-gratification bit for your actor?"

Booth shook his head. "I don't know. That wasn't in the behind-the-scenes video about my actor's directing the show, so it's impossible for me to tell."

Cam jumped in then. "Well ... let's start on the rest. I can't believe how crappy the science was on this ep. Really, really weak. And I find it hard to believe that the whole bone-foaming thing is even possible, though I'll admit, the author didn't really have time to research it before writing this criticism. Readers, please leave any information in the reviews, mm-kay?"

Hodgins nodded, shaking his head. "I can't believe, either, that I was so desperate to save the remains that I'd toss antacid all over the body like that without testing a small area for a reaction, or not knowing that it would set the alarm off ("AGAIN!" moaned Cam, holding her head in her hands). You'd think I could jimmy up some gas to use in a sterile containment unit or something."

Angela smiled, though she agreed. "I do think that sucks, Hodgie, but I can't be too sad, because I got to work my mad computer mojo and reconstruct the bones enough to let Bren do her mad squinting thing and discover the nature and dimensions of the murder weapon. Although I still miss the Angelator, it was cool to have everyone standing around my own version of Star Trek's transporter."

Brennan smiled in response. "Yes, I was glad to see you using your computer modeling skills to save the day and have a chance to be sassy to Cam and allow me an opportunity to praise you, since it sometimes seems as if I don't appreciate all your real contributions to the lab. I think it's important that I be shown to express real appreciation to the rest of the team so that I not be seen as a universal clueless hardass to everyone. And I miss the Angelator, too. Booth and I make good goo-goo eyes there."

Ange smiled back in response. "And the scene gave you an opportunity to extend one of your graceful and slender milky-white arms up to the overhead screen as you pointed and squinted at the marks on the vertebrae before describing them sufficiently to allow me to say they were the tailoring scissors that the sister-in-law most likely had."

Brennan nodded. "I can't decide if I think you were a little too rough on me about how Booth lets me be the smart one, but I do think my puzzlement about why Booth would hold himself back was a valid line, since it's clear that even at that point in the show I always thought that Booth was intelligent and skilled. Why else would I want to learn how to question like him, after all? I think the writers didn't really flesh out my reasons for wanting to learn. Was I trying to compete with Booth because I feel insecure next to him? Was I simply recognizing that it was a skill I wanted to try to master so I could be more effective with the cases? Or was I really so clueless that I really thought I could do better than Booth once I started to learn something?"

Cam responded. "I think that's a classic example of how your character has been inconsistently drawn, both always and especially this season. Earlier on, in "_Purple Pieces_," "_Con Man_," "_Finger_" and "_Blew_," you seemed to be more perceptive of Booth's able qualities and more willing to praise him and provide him with explicit assurance, but here you're clueless again and confused about interpersonal things your more simpatico version from earlier this season might have actually gotten. And I thought that penultimate scene before Booth stormed off in the taxicab was another problem example. While I enjoyed the eyesex as much as anyone else, I felt like you should have been allowed to just say "Yes," when Booth asked if you were saying he was better at something than you, rather than starting to argue. I think it lessened a moment that could have been on a level with the diner's "_You're here to help me Evolve_" or the "_Making Love_" scenes for warm smiles and passionate eyesex."

Everyone swooned as they recalled those two scenes, and agreed wholeheartedly that this eyesex was suboptimal, even though any Booth/Brennan eyesex was better than none at all.

"And at least FBI Bimbo is gone," Angela muttered. She hated blonde chicks almost as much as Bren did. Cam shook her head in sympathy. The girls on the dark side just had more character, as proven by wholly intermittent appearances of blonde women characters on the show. Tessa, Rebecca, FBI Bimbo? The non-blondes had staying power. The blondes only lasted as long as their roots.

The men wisely kept their mouths shut. Perotta hadn't been that bad, but they did want to keep their three gorgeous and dark-haired co-workers happy. Especially because anyone of them could probably kill with a look, although Brennan would most likely also go all kung-fu on their asses just for the workout value.

"What did we think of the premise of the murder?" Sweets asked.

Hodgins stroked his beard thoughtfully. "I thought the bungee jumping intro was weak, but I understand that they don't want a cold-open, either, and at least it's a change from the usual "_stupid kids discover dead body_" intro we've gotten into a rut on."

Brennan nodded. "We've already noted that the science was utterly hinky. And I think with the bones foaming like that, I should have been in the lab more or even figured the problem out myself. But as to the murder itself, I didn't think the motivation was wrong. But ... again, we have this season's Gravedigger problem."

Booth grunted, his brow furrowed in extensive annoyance. "Yeah. How's a wee tailoress like that get a big guy like the victim into that big vat of chemicals, then get the chemicals into her van, then dump it all without being observed doing any of that? She didn't have an accomplice, but the writers would have us believe that she had like, super-wee-tailoress strength at being discovered in the sack with her husband's boss. And, you'd think that he would at least somewhat understand, since he'd ditched his own success for the sake of his brother, the poor bastard loser."

Booth was still pissed that the writers seemed to think that a) someone like Taffet could manhandle a Big Stud like him, or b) that there was an accomplice and yet left not enough clues of that, therefore leaving the audience to spin Hodgins-level conspiracy theories. He consoled himself by leaning over and inhaling deeply of Brennan's hair, then sat back up and grinned at the rest of the table. Bones smelled like puppies and rainbows and unicorns and pie and Lolcats and Cute Overload and just about everything Happy.

Sweets shook his head at the sweet display, yet again, of how Dr. Brennan was the cure for anything sad or unhappy that ailed Booth, except of course the writers' ridiculous insistence on refusing to let them Just Do It Already. But he didn't say that aloud, less pre-consummation Booth get tetchy and shoot him. Instead, he followed up on Booth's last comment. "Yeah, he was a non-entity, which was too bad. He seemed nice, but it was kind of hard to see what made him worth the trouble on both ends."

Angela looked at the therapist. "I've got to say, it was a cute moment between you and Bren when she dared you to teach her interrogation methods and you were all amazed and not a little turned on at the way Bren smiled at you with the light of challenge in her eyes. Of course, it's always good to see that mega-watt smile of Bren's, but I don't think she's ever aimed it at you before."

Sweets nodded. "No, you're right. It made me all humina-humina in the moment, since of course Dr. Brennan is stunning when she smiles, and the fact that she was willing to trust me to show her something made me feel like a warm and fuzzy part of the team."

Booth's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. He knew the kid was just crushing on Bones, and that Bones had no interest in kids with nerdy/pouty/hot lips, but he didn't like the idea of Bones giving challenging and hard-on inducing smiles like that to just anyone. "Yeah. Too bad the writers didn't give Bones a chance to be less impatient and go more steadily in learning these things, rather than to have her almost crash and burn and only elicit information from Jungle Jenny there by accident. I mean, she's supposed to be this respected academic, and yet she thinks she can learn something as subtle as facial gestures in one episode? That's kind of immature and inconsistent-- given her previous stated distrust of psychology, her repeated acknowledgments this season of her lacking people skills, most recently in _"Fire in the Ice_," you'd think that they'd let her make it a real project, rather than an opportunity for her to feel humiliated and act vulnerable and needy around me."

Mr. Nigel-Murray, who'd been almost silent as he watched these characters exchange opinions and quote facts from past episodes, finally chimed in. "I concur, Agent Booth. And it undermines Dr. Brennan's reputation as an observer as well-- how on earth did she become a famous anthropologist if she weren't capable of long-term observation of and learning from human interactions? And her cluelessness again when they were informing the deceased brother and his wife and her "_was that not sensitive_" just didn't make sense since previously she'd learned to let Booth take the lead on those matters."

Everyone nodded. It was dumb, how dumb the WTF writers were making Brennan to be. Po's melodious falsetto carried up as they thought further. "_A farce, no arcs, not hot, no plots_." Each character resisted the urge to get up and do the bump in time with this fiction's new theme song, and instead remained in place, as dedicated to ending this wrap-up as they were to the whole crimefighting thing.

"Okay," said Cam, rubbing her hands. "Funny moments. I'll start. Brennan had that great line about "_you've got to stop getting all your scientific references from cartoons_" comment to Booth."

Everyone snorted in memory. Angela chimed in next. "While I thought the whole strip club thing was maybe a cheap throwaway, I did enjoy how uncomfortable Booth was getting the lap dance at all while Brennan was there. I didn't take it just as him being embarrassed she was there-- I also took it as proof that he really is a gentleman, and that it's not his usual practice to frequent strip clubs at all. It was funny how his eyes crossed when she undulated her hips in his face, though."

Hodgins laughed. "The way Brennan's actor deadpanned about how Strawberry Lust was quite arousing and had nice control of her hips had me snorting my drink, even though I'd already seen that teaser clip on YouTube and Fox and Hulu a thousand times before. I've also got to say, Cam, that the way you were all frustrated when you were out eating with Brennan and Booth was kind of cute, too. We rarely get to see you so frustrated and out of your element, and despite some of the already noted overly farcical and/or uncontinuousificty moments in the episode, it was nice to see you being less of an Ice Queen and more of a human. I do hope we'll learn more about your character soon."

Brennan nodded. "You've been leading an almost strictly inter-lab life. It would be nice for you to get out somewhere besides a scene." She thought deeply for a moment, that adorable furrow between her brow arising so endearingly that every character at the table and all the Sea Chimps wanted to just kiss her and declare undying love.

Hodgins changed the subject. "The mega-Audi project placement this week was interesting. Otherwise, it was just the usual Dell and Toyota spiel. And ... loved the monkey. It's got to be said. When he pulled the tissue out for Jungle Jim and handed it to him? So freakin' cute."

Everyone nodded. Monkeys were cute, and Bananas was especially cute. And the monkey jokes at the Criterion Dealership about not touching Jungle Jim's monkey were funny as well. Though maybe the monkey back and forth between Booth and Brennan afterward was a little much. Though the jokes were probably worth it-- those cuts between our two heroes while they're on the phone together are a new and interesting addition to the way the show is filmed. Anything to distract from the incontiguity.

"What about that end scene?" Sweets steepled his hands. He, too, thought it was kind of a gyp, but he wanted to explore all the issues. "Was it funny? Did that whole gentle/making love versus passionate/uninhibited interaction between Agent Booth and Dr. Brennan make up for Agent Booth's unwarranted loss of his temper? Or was his response justified in light of his caution to Dr. Brennan to handle the car carefully, and his hesitance in letting her drive? Or ..." he said, even more thoughtfully, "was that temper tantrum of Booth's actually a thinly veiled metaphor for his increasing inability to be in the driver's seat with Dr. Brennan, and his fear that if he lets her into his life like he let her drive, that things will stall out just like they did in that scene?"

"Oooooohhhhhh," the characters all said, impressed by the boy shrink's increasing perceptiveness. All, that is, except for Brennan and Booth, who'd tuned out as soon as Sweets started speaking like they always did in therapy, and were instead busy giving each other butterfly kisses and reveling in the warmth of their love.

Sweets looked over to see what reaction his patients might have, and rolled his eyes as he saw they were too busy signing "_No, I love **you** more_" in Amercan Sign Language to really be paying attention. They were totally hopelessly in love, and it was so totally, royally (see, I told you I'd mix it up, didn't I?) obvious to everyone except the on-show Booth and Brennan and the WTF writers that they should have Just Done It Already like, half a season ago. Or in Vegas. That would have been HOT.

Booth, meanwhile, was still signing with Brennan. _"Let's go home and really test drive a stickshift, Bones baby-sweetheart."_

Brennan nodded silent agreement, signing "_I also know you are a ravenous glutton for Magic Cookie Bars and I will let you eat them off my stomach when we get home because I find it tantalizing and ticklish_" in American Sign Language. "_And don't call me baby."_

As Booth's eyebrows waggled agreement and his mouth watered at the thought of both Bones and Magic Cookie Bars, his prominent endowment sprung to attention. Brennan, licking her lips, nudged Booth, then the two partners got up, waved at the characters, and headed downstairs so they could leave and Just Do It Already Again. Because at least in this fic, insatiable sexual appetites were satiated? Saturated? Satiaterized? Whatever.


	24. The Salt in the Wounds

_With apologies for the delay (I explain below) and thanks for thoughts from dawnsfire, MickeyBoggs, Celtic33, doctorsuez, and SuchAGoodGirl. _

_Mild spoilers for the end of S4. Nothing that anyone totally (totally!) not living under a rock wouldn't have heard. _

* * *

**  
Salt in the Wounds**

The characters all trudged up the stairs, annoyed to be called out of their amorphous residences at this late Bonesday hour. Seeley and Temperance were especially cranky since the summons had come while they were in the midst of turning Pluto back into a planet just because of the way Temperance's tongue _T-rated fic, T-rated fic_. They then rolled their eyes in mutual exasperation at being referred to as Seeley and Temperance. They were Booth and Brennan to everyone else, for crying out loud, and Brennan never called herself Bones in her head. That was strictly a Booth-POV kind of thing. Also? Tempe is spelled Tempe, not Tempie or Tempey, and Booth would never, ever, EVER call Brennan Tempe, because that's what her Bones-abandoning father and brother and Sully all called her, and Booth would never abandon his glorious Bones. They might call each other Seeley or Temperance every once in a while when they were Making Love or Being Serious, but most of the time? Booth and Brennan, and from Booth's POV, Bones. (Okay. Sorry. Criteria for POV and naming of characters in all other Bones-fiction pieces now established, let's get on with the wrap-up.)

There was a huge tray of Magic Cookie Bars on the table (recipe found on Eagle Brand's condensed milk website) and several fresh pots of coffee, along with caviar, blini, and several kinds of champagne for those who wanted something a little more high-falutin'. Along with sushi rice and Spam for the Sea Chimps, since they were all down with Hawaiian spam-shimi. (Insert pained groan at pun here. But really, try it. It's not bad.)

Booth rolled his eyes at the spread as he and Brennan sat down at the end of the table, his hand automatically twining in his beloved Bone's silky BROWN/auburn/honey-shot brunette but for-God's-sake-not-Black hair. "Don't think that this makes up for it," he said, rolling his eyes at the ceiling toward the author and provider of fanfiction food.

Everyone else sat, helped themselves to some food, and waited as Booth continued to look up as he waited for another episode in a continuing story that's gone to the Bones. (Read that bit aloud in the Muppets voice from the Muppets' "Veterinarian Hospital." And if you don't know what that is, well, go look it up on YouTube, and rewatch the Swedish Chef skits while you're at it.)

There was no immediate response, and Sweets, looking nervous, said "Makes up for what?" He was wicked, totally, royally worried about the season's end photos of the return of Gordon-Gordon and rumors that ANOTHER of the regular cast members might not return.

There was an uncomfortable silence, and Brennan stroked her long delicate fingers over Booth's grey-suit clad arm, the one with the nice pickstitching detail that had been added to his wardrobe rotation.

"She's cheating on us," he said, gritting the accusation out through his manly, clenched jaw. All of the characters swooned at Booth's display of manly indignation. Brennan just felt a thrill shoot to her core. Their off-episode lovemaking was always more passionate and planet-creating when Booth got worked up about something. That and the Cute Overload Hedgehogs all over the house.

There was a gasp around the table as all the characters looked up, tears in their eyes at the betrayal and Pain In Their Hearts.

"Cheating?" said Angela, who really wasn't one to talk. "Hey!" yelled Angela, as she read the preceding sentence as it scrolled out overhead like the rest of this fiction. (Didn't know I could do that, could you? It's all about willing suspension of disbelief, friends.)

"_Shut up, Angela_," came the author's semi-melodious alto and testy voice from above. "_You're one to talk, Ms. Get-in-a-Breakup-with-Roxie-then-drag-Hodgins Back-in-the-Sack-and-By-the-Way I'm-Still-Mad-at-You-For-Kissing-Birambau-in-Yanks-in-the-UK_."

"Oh, snap," murmured Brennan under her breath. Cam caught it and snickered. Brennan was so beautiful when she got vernacular expressions right. Was the author going to write them a slash-fic anytime soon? (No.)

"ANYWAY," said Booth, looking annoyed that the author had dared draw attention away from his manly clenched jaw. "Yes. She's cheating on us. Instead of writing this wrap-up, she wrote things for not just one but TWO, count 'em squints, TWO separate fandoms."

"But ... why would you do that?" Sweets asked, looking wounded, and his nerdy/pouty/hot lips all aquiver. "WHY? Don't you know there are fans of this fic who PM you and want to know when you're going to post? You have people relying on you for witty commentary and critique! You owe it to your reading public! Plus, think of the Sea Chimps! They only get play in these Fics! It's like Tinkerbell... if you don't write about the Sea Chimps, they'll just disappear!"

Booth nodded. "I can't believe you would cheat on us like that. I thought your love for us was as true and pure and all things wonderful as my love for my Bones." (Swooning, etc., among the seated characters.)

"_You're one to talk._" the author's increasingly testy voice replied. "_Because you, Seeley Unknown Middle Name Booth, have never, ever, indulged in a fling with something or someone besides your one true love, and you damned well knew it then when you did, too, just because you were confused and upset by the fact that you couldn't make out which end was up anymore in a relationship you thought meant one thing, only to find out that things beyond your control led it to mean something other_."

(Cue Sea Chimps singing "_WTF Writers_" down on the platform.)

Cam flinched and almost hid under the table. Brennan preened, since the author was taking her side on the STUPID STUPID STUPID LINE, that and the Booth sleeping with Cam thing. (Did she mention that line was incredibly stupid?) And Booth? He looked ashamed and yet still annoyed.

"Yeah," he said surlily (Is that a word? Whatever...). "But ... you're cheating on us with Jamie Kenton." His tone was fraught with anger and terror all over again at the mere memory of his Bones strung up on that meat hook.

There was a gasp of outrage heard 'round the table.

"_I am not cheating on you with Jamie Kenton. I am distracting myself with other series featuring Jamie Kenton's actor. There's a difference. And Booth, I don't see how you've got a right to complain, since his actor starred with your actor on your actor's career-making show, and he is the world's second-best FBI Agent_."

Booth set his jaw stubbornly, though internally he had to agree. Kenton was a good FBI Agent-- after all, he had almost gotten one over on Booth, and it was only Booth's Mad Intuitive Skills with the help of that Wacky, Wacky Band of Squints that helped him figure it out. And Booth was man enough to admit it. Kenton's actor was hot, and looked almost as hot shooting a gun as Booth's actor did. But he wasn't going to say so aloud.

"_Okay. Explanations for the delay in this post are now out there. I'll leave you guys to get on with the wrap-up._"_  
_  
Hodgins, mouth full of spam-shimi, looked up and smiled. "Hey, thanks for the food and the slam on my beloved but royally flaky Angela. And ... I did look hot without my shirt, didn't I? And I got to be all pensive at the end, holding Angela's earring in an eerie echo of Booth's actions in '_Man in the Morgue_....'"

The author's tone bespoke a fond smile. "_Yes, Jack, you were quite studly and sensitive and scientific this week, what with rehydrating the body with Cam and all_."

Everyone around the table smiled, even Booth. Who didn't love Hodgins? ("Hodgins!" chimed the Sea Chimps from downstairs. Then La La flew up on the new wings each chimp sprouted at the last post-episode wrap up and snagged a tray of spam-shimi and a bottle of yellow-label Veuve Clicquot, winging her way back down to the platform.)

Hodgins smiled. At least he'd gotten some nookie, even if it was tinged with post-nookie angst. But angst was good. It kept the show going. Especially if Brennan and Booth were going to FINALLY DO IT, and there would need to be surrogate angst while Booth and Brennan basked in whatever glow resulted from the resolution of one of the NINE BAJIILLION SPOILERS about the end of the season. He then gritted his jaw in tense anticipation, BECAUSE IF THEY MAKE THIS WHOLE SEASON A DREAM A LA PATRICK DUFFY ON DALLAS, THIS AUTHOR WILL DRIVE TO L.A. AND PERSONALLY HARM THE CREATORS AND NOT JUST WRITE THEM INTO SOMETHING TOTALLY SCATHING. TOTALLY. (Ahem. Sorry.)

There was a pause, and then the characters set their minds back to the task at hand. Perhaps if they moved along, this would get posted before 8 pm PST. Probably not.

"Booth, sweetie, you know that I love you, right?" Angela twined one curly brown lock around her finger as she looked at her favorite FBI Studmuffin.

Booth nodded. "Sure. As if the Studly and other names that would land this lab in Sexual Harassment Suit Soup if this was the real world didn't give it away."

The other characters nodded, but before they could think further, Angela furrowed her brow, then looked over at Brennan, who despite perhaps poor relationship advice in this episode, nonetheless was there for the artist when she asked her to be. There was something to be said for loyalty, and Bren was nothing but loyal when it came to her friends, awkwardness notwithstanding. And she did have that sweet, thoughtful moment where she said she would stop to look at the sunset.

"Well," she said. "I'm all for character backstory and progression, and I know we're all glad to know a little bit more about you this season but ... does anyone besides me feel like this season the show isn't really called "_Bones_," but is actually called "_Booth and those Wacky Squints with Brennan Not Doing Much Science and Standing Off to the Side While She Inconsistently Alternates Between Intuitive, Clueless and Generally Lonely_?" She paused, looking around. "Or is it just me?"

Everyone sat quiet for a moment. Not only had Angela gotten Brennan the information in "_Foam_" to find the murder weapon, but now she'd just encapsulated their unease with so much of this season. Messed-up love life notwithstanding, Angela needed more good lines in the season. Her actor was underutilized.

"No, you're right Angela," Brennan said quietly. "I know my actor for whatever reason doesn't really do publicity, and that much of that seems to fall to Booth's actor, but the show _is_ called "_Bones_." It's problematic that my character is being marginalized this season. In the first season, you, Dr. Hodgins and Zack all worked with me in a collegial if occasionally unconstructed and freewheeling fashion, with Dr. Goodman as a benevolent patriarch. But in season 2, Cam comes along even though I was apparently running the lab with no problems and was winning cases for whomever I consulted for. Regardless, however, there were multiple episodes with truly interesting science that allowed my actor to espouse polysyllabic dialogue-- even though the sheer ass-kicking count was way down in S2 and S3, with the exception of "_Killer in the Concrete_" and my Mad-Crazy Eyes." She shook her head sadly. "This season, I just don't know. It's like I'm being written by two different writers with two different visions for my character and no attempt is being made to harmonize them so that things make sense when Booth and I FINALLY DO IT. And in the meantime, the Mad Squinting Skills for which I am World-Renowned and a New York Times Best Selling Author are mostly ignored. If I'm not going to get any nookie, I should at least be able to have some QT with my bones."

(Cue Sea Chimps singing "Let's Get it On" down on the platform.)

Cam spoke up them. "I found it really offensive the way they wrote you to be so offensive to this week's intern. You'd just had that conversation with Booth in the prior episode about being awkward, something you seemed to take to heart, and yet here you were, harping on about religion in a way you haven't since "_Santa in the Slush_." I would have thought your character would have progressed by this point, but here they had you being at stubborn and childish as ... well ... since a long time ago."

Sweets nodded agreement. "Yes. She seemed surprised by his devoutness and his demeanor, but I thought these interns were all Dr. Brennan's graduate students. Wouldn't she know them at least enough to be surprised by their particular quirks? It war really quite painful, to watch the scenes between Mr. Vaziri and our favorite forensic anthropologist. Plus, it was a jarring contrast to the fact that despite the mother's "_you shouldn't say such terrible things_," snark, when Brennan was actually quite quiet and sensitive during that first meeting with the parents."

Brennan shook her head sadly-- almost as sadly and pensively as when she watched Mr. Vaziri pray and then stood outside the diner while Booth was talking with Clinton. "I didn't like how childish they made me about our power clash over the body. While it was nice that you got to be the one to do most of the work, I think that my real character would have been more interested in solving the crime than in arguing over who got to work first, and that she wouldn't have been so ungracious in acknowledging that Cam's contributions were critical to the outcome of the case. I was also perturbed by the implication in Mr. Vaziri's interactions with Cam that I would be angry with a student of mine for creating that fascinating and cool virtual skeleton, when the WTF Writers should know by now that Returning the Lost to their Families is my mission in life. Right up there with getting that furrowy thing out of my forehead."

Cam nodded. "We did join forces to badger Booth about getting that warrant in his office, however. I thought that was a nice show of teamwork."

Booth clapped his hands. "Okay. Opening scene. Nice departure. Competent, down-to-earth, non-stupid women having a funny but not too jokey conversation before they discover the body. Good. Me joking about potato chips? Bad. Tacky. Disrespectful to the dead. Just Plain Eeew."

Everyone nodded. It was Just Plain Eeew. Didn't the writers remember that Booth was a Sensitive, Tortured Sniper With a Wounded Soul, Who Took Justice Seriously? That potato chip joke, much like the masked boobies joke earlier on were just tacky.

Jack nodded, then set out a few of his other pet peeves about Booth in these past few episodes. "And, dude, what's with stealing chips from the Vending Machine Guy? And your initial "Whoa," reaction to the pregnant appearance of the victim's best friend, Becca Hedgepath? Pretty inappropriate. Also, your actor was really overworking that I'm-thinking-seriously-forehead-furrowy thing in the scene with the father in Booth's office. And ... the weightlifting thing? Dude, you just came across as an ass with that all "f_at kids like you don't get chicks_" interrogation. Eeew. And ... now you're back to expensive suits and a wicked-expensive looking stereo in the background of your office in your scene with the dad? Man. Why would you live in that cluttered apartment if you could afford all those things? Also, you were acting like texting was just invented yesterday. I mean, HELLO, I SENT YOU A TEXT FROM UNDERGROUND IN '_ALIENS_' FOR CHRIST'S SAKE." (Ahem. Sorry. And you wonder why it took me so long to write this fic.)

"Bren did look cute in her hat, the one she had from "_Santa in the Slush_," and apparently it's winter again, lending further credence to the anticontinuity-erized theory regarding this season," Angela noted. "But what was up with that corset thingy I wore over my sheer blue shirt? That's not artsy, just icky, long sleeves notwithstanding. And that bow thing? With the plaid jacket in the chiropractor's office? Don't even get me started, people. Plus... what did Roxie's actor do with her hair? Because I've got to say, it doesn't look good. I did, however, find Mr. Vaziri both endearing and bright, onomatopoeia notwithstanding. His reference to his rough time in the Army was also endearing. I do miss me some Wendell, though."

Everyone sighed. Who didn't love Wendell? Yes, there was love for Clark and even Mr. Fisher, but Wendell and his funny non sequiturs were this author's favorite.

Sweets pursed his nerdy/pouty/hot lips, reflecting on the fact the alpha girl in the episode had nerdy/pouty/hot lips and a tall skinny build just like him and was on Freaks and Geeks with his actor a long time ago. He also reflected that if his character and the alpha girl's ever had babies, they'd be nine feet tall, three inches wide, and have lips the size of Rhode Island. Setting aside the fact that his GIRLFRIEND hadn't made an appearance in several episodes, Sweets got on with his job. "Again, I'm more of a part of the team than a shrink anymore. Has anyone noticed that our heroes haven't had a session with me since "_Hero in the Hold_?" I quite enjoyed the undercover operation, my interactions with Angela that show my earnest wish to be of use to the team. I did find it odd, however, that the murderer would go out of his way to crack on Dr. Brennan for her "_not a real medical doctor_" comment, since you would think he would be eager to have Booth and Brennan leaving as quickly as possible. He's not a sociopath-- he should have been nervous."

Fretting, Brennan wrung her hands. "That '_real medical doctor_' thing really annoyed me. First, we don't know what my other two doctorates are in. And second, I use chiropractic principles to adjust Booth's back. Why would I be disrespectful to a practitioner of a methodology I have used several times professionally? Although I got a kick out of the scenes with Angela and Dr. Sweets while they were undercover. Did anyone else note that they had _Jeffersonian Magazine_ in the waiting room?"

"So. What were some good character moments?" Cam asked.

Brennan stroked her fingers over the inside of Booth's wrists, right over Those Mysterious Tattoos Of His. Booth's heart melted, and so did his hair gel. "Booth had that leather jacket and collared shirt in the end scene. He looked very symmetrical and well-structured. And like someone who didn't fall in to the _'sad truism'_ I cited. I hoped he knew that I meant it didn't apply to him, especially when I didn't argue with him about his calling Clinton."

Angela nodded. "And that scene in the diner... oh, man." She fanned herself a little. "Sexy, paternal, caring, serious Booth. Time out for swooning."

While Angela swooned, everyone else stuck bendy straws into their bottles of champagne and took long pulls on their tiny bubbles. Then started on new bottles. Angela was really outdoing herself on the swooning, but they humored her. It was a tough episode for her character.

Cam thought some more. Smiling at Brennan, she said "Dr. Brennan was the one who recalled that the pectin finding in the wounds on the rehydrated flesh would have occurred from jam-making, which led Booth to bring in the mother. That interrogation was the climax, the discovery of the five thousand dollar contribution matter that set into action the rest of the discoveries and the closure of the case. That was quite a recall there, Dr. Brennan."

Brennan smiled lightly at the pathologist. Really, Cam was quite lovely. Was the author sure she wouldn't write them a slash fic? (Yes. No Cam/Brennan. Just, no.)

"Anything else?" Hodgins asked.

There was silence as everyone picked at the rest of the blinis and sucked more champagne through their straws.

"More attention could have been paid to the issues of sex education and peer pressure," Angela said. "It was only hinted at, but Bones is a prime-time show with many teenaged fans. You'd think the writers would take the opportunity to convey that the only high school sex that was good sex was protected sex."

Sweets steepled his hands. "Has anyone ever really counted how many wardrobe changes go into a case, so that we could have some idea of how long it usually takes our heroes and us wacky squints and psychologist to solve a case? Because it could be a service for fic writers."

There was a pause. "_Okay, people, gotta wrap this up_," blc said. "_It's past my bedtime and I still haven't seen 'Doctor in the Den' because I don't have cable or a digital receiver-- I have to wait until it's on the network's streaming video site or The Hulu_." (Say it with me. _The Hulu_. Like the way your grandmother says The Diabetes. Except The Hulu is the gateway drug to all kinds of TV series, including ones involving Jamie Kenton's actor.)

Booth eyed the few crumbs of the magic cookie bars speculatively, then looked up after the rest of the characters except his lovely, incredible Bones had all gone their separate ways. He shared a mind-meld moment with Brennan, then said "Pssst. blc. If you fill out apartment with Magic Cookie Bars, I'll make sure the muse sends you inspiration for a crossover Chuck/Bones piece playing on Kenton's actor's being the same as one of the protagonists in that show, and maybe, just maybe, a really hot threesome with me and Bones and that other guy? I mean, me and that other guy on Bones. Not each other. Because that would be hinky. Totally."

(Booth's apartment, Brennan's too, suddenly overflowed with Magic Cookie Bars. And Mac & Cheese. And homemade chocolate pudding. Because Booth's actor? Hot. Kenton's actor? Also hot. Booth and Kenton and Brennan all together? Giant nuclear furnace hot, no matter how OOC it might be. Muse, don't fail me now.)


	25. The Doctor in the Den

**_Many thanks to my "What Did You Think" posse: dawnsfire, MickeyBoggs, doctorsuez and celtic33._**

**_Also, to my generous commenter Robert, thank you very much for your many kind and thoughtful comments. I wish you had an account so I could PM you!_**

* * *

**The Doctor In The Den**

*_Sniffle_.* Angela looked down at the table, wiping her eyes, and happy that despite her multiple and increasingly not funny, over-the-top inappropriate sexual comments this episode, this was a real ensemble piece of acting, the first real one since "_Con Man_."

*_Snorfle_.* Clark wasn't afraid to get in touch with his sensitive side. He had a _smokin'_ girlfriend, after all, who thought he was a "_briefcase bomb_."

*_Snorf_.* Sweets was the epitome of being in touch with his sensitive side, he was a psychologist after all, and repression was unhealthy, totally, royally unhealthy, as the situation between everyone's favorite Special Agent and Forensic Anthropologist proved.

*_Trembling, relieved, emotionally fraught smile_.* Cam clutched her hands in her lap, her lovely doe eyes glimmering with fear and hope at a whole new arc for her character.

*_Snapping rubber band_.* Hodgins wasn't going to cry. He _wasn't_. *_Snap. Snap. Snap. Sniff_.*

*_Trembling, pressed lips. Quivering chin. Welling, depthless blue eyes_.* Brennan's heart ached-- with joy for Michelle, with increased respect for Cam, with bittersweet triumph that she'd saved just one child from the problems of the foster system, and with grief and regret for her Unknown But Probably Really, Really Bad Experiences In The System, As If Being Abandoned Wasn't Enough. She just didn't know. It was one of those mysteries, maybe one she would tell Booth about in the future when he needed a telling personal revelation to prove to him that yet again, Brennan Trusts Him Completely, so that PLEASE, they could JUST DO IT ALREADY.

*_SNORF. SNORK. SNIFF_.* Booth had a big heart, and his expression of the same weepiness as everyone else felt after this week's episode was correspondingly big, especially considering how bittersweet this whole episode had to have been for his wonderful Bones. *_SNIFF. SNIFF. SSSNNNIIIIIFFFFF_.* He would have wiped his nose on the back of his suit jacket sleeve, but it was apparently a new and expensive one, and he didn't want to get his actor in trouble with Wardrobe.

*_Deep, meaningful gaze from azure blue eyes and a hand clasp on Booth's arm_.*

*_Long, meaningful look from chocolate eyes as the rest of the world falls away_.*

"Ah-- ah! There it is!" said Sweets happily, pointing his finger at the partners. "There's the Booth/Brennan eyesex moment we were deprived of!"

Everyone watched happily, sighing and half-swooning as the two partners gazed at one another, each caressing the other's cheek and wiping the tears from the other's face. (Although there are some, like this author, who while missing a real B/B moment in the show _somewhere_, thought it right and fitting that the end focus more on Cam and her situation than Brennan and Booth. Although hpaich did an awesome, awesome B/B end scene, which was totally awesome. Totally.)

*SSSSNNIIIIFFFFFFF, SSSSSNOOOORRRFFFFF*

Everyone turned around to find the source of the noise and were startled to see the giraffe from the hypnotism scene. He stood just tall enough to look in at the lounge area. Did you know giraffes can weigh up to two tons? It made sense that the giraffe sniffled so loud and long. There was a wicked lot of nose and throat on a giraffe to sniffle through.

"Sorry," the giraffe mumbled. "Just ... it was so touching, the whole episode, and Matilda here felt the need to come by and apologize." Everyone got up to look down over the rail, and saw Matilda the tiger standing there looking sheepish-- not sheepish in the sense that she just ate a sheep, although she _was_ a tiger, so it was entirely possible-- but in any event, she looked up and said "Sorry for creating such a disgusting dead body for everyone to have to deal with this week. It's like the special effects guys are having a "_Quien es mas macho_" contest except it's called "_Whose Body is Grosser_?"

Everyone nodded. The body _was_ nasty this week. Sweets shook his head, too. Normally, he was the one with the jokey, macabre interest in the cadavers, but even he thought this one was gross. He also thought the hypnotism scene was weird, too jokey and out of sync with the episode, especially with Angela's comments-- it made inappropriately light of the real use to which his hypnotism skills could be put to assist the witness (whose actor, by the way, has also directed two _Bones_ episodes) in recalling who the victim was speaking with.

The characters all returned to the table, then helped themselves to some coffee and more of that Cold Fusion Cranberry Almond Coffee Cake Brennan baked and brought, yet more evidence of her increasingly nurturing nature this season. It _still_ was delicious. Booth sawed away at a fourth slice for himself. Snorfling and sniffling made him hungry, goddamnit.

Brennan looked searchingly and sympathetically at Cam after they all waved goodbye to the animals, who went off to drink and sing sea shanties with the Sea Chimps. "I think we could spend this whole wrap up talking about how wonderful it was for you to get so much character development, how much heart-breaking emotion your actor conveyed, how fraught, bitter, then sweet your interactions with Michelle were, and how well you portrayed the hesitance, confusion, and need to care for Michelle despite the responsibilities and weight it entailed. Your story about the salt and pepper shakers and then when Michelle brought it downstairs at the end? I wept large crystalline tears in sympathy. And the young girl playing Michelle was just wonderful, too."

Everyone sniffled, then sniffled again for good measure. First, because Cam and her actor _were_ wonderful this episode, and the writing on this part of the show was So Much Better than so many episodes this season, and second, because the thought of Brennan weeping large crystalline tears in sympathy made them even more weepy, since it was clear from the past few episodes that the writers were taking this Bones Needs A Baby thing really seriously, and going out of their way not just to foreshadow, but to Hit Viewers Over the Head With It. But everyone was still down with Brennan's getting more in touch with her feelings, and that she seemed to be doing it more on her own without Booth pushing her.

Angela looked thoughtful. "There were a lot of character things, quiet ones, going on in the background for Bren. First, the nice way she told Clark that she admired his dedication to work and his skills, and then the way she was the first person to notice something was wrong with Cam when I brought up the ID on the victim, the way she asked after Michelle when Cam came back to the lab, and then the way she talked with Cam about making a difference to Michelle without guilt tripping Cam about her own childhood, though clearly that was the undercurrent to that whole speech. Although-- even though you tried to hide it, Bren, I think your comment about your being more effective in the lab than the field while Cam worked the case with Booth and your crack on their solving the case with their guts was actually a pretty transparent cry of hurt, perhaps because Booth's comments about your being awkward are piling up, as manifested by the way you pressed your lips together when Booth got a bit condescending to you in the car while you were waiting for Cam to finish breaking the news. As if you needed more self-doubt."

"There were some great Brennan squinty moments in this episode, including where she figured out that the victim was suffering from that health problem that impaired his ability to work as a surgeon. She and Dr. Saroyan also had some good back and forth about the shoelace, the plastic knife and the bleed out." Clark offered. Not that he was sucking up to Dr. _Hot-Damn He Still Remembered How Hot She Looked In That Black Lacy Top In "Con Man"_ Brennan-- he simply enjoyed her seriousness of purpose and singular intellect, and the intellectual discussion the two of them shared when they agreed that Matilda was not the cause of death. "Although that meaty bit where Dr. Saroyan showed where there was that '_good old-fashioned bleed out_?' That was disgusting. Flesh is so ... occlusive."

Brennan's eyebrows shot up. "_Thank you_, Dr. Edison."

Hodgins, glad to have some interactions with Angela, Clark, and Booth in this episode, plus the chance to say "_urine_" repeatedly, looked at the two forensic anthropologists admiring each other, then changed the subject. "Did anyone besides me find amusing how Angela's taunting of Clark just escalated over the course of the episode? She was just messing with him."

Angela smirked. "Yeah, I was. But it doesn't change the fact that he _IS_ squeezable. Or that Hodgins has a great ass."

Hodgins smiled. He _did_ have a great ass, and all his online bugnslime grrrrlz all agreed. (Sea Chimps, "Hodgins!" etc.) Clark grinned, too. His hot vegan women's studies professor girlfriend certainly thought he was squeezable. Although it was too bad-- he'd sort of hoped that he and Dr. Hodgins would get to do another crazy experiment, like they did in "_Con Man_." Maybe there would be another chance in the future, although by next week's promo it looked like that Nigel-Murray kid was back, so maybe not. However, he was satisfied by the other part of that promo, namely that HAWT teaser where Booth slams Brennan into the wall. (But it couldn't be that simple, could it? Probably not.)

"Funny moments," said Cam. "Let's rack up the best ones."

Booth went first. "Well, there was that whole '_Come on, Bones. You gotta take time to smell the primates_,' and Bones' '_Why? They're malodorous and they throw excrement_.'" interaction. Bones is getting in a lot of good wisecracks this season-- not to mention the one where she said '_The common house cat will devour you before you're cold_.'"

Angela snorted. "Those were good, but I loved Hodgie's crack on Clark when he said '_Uh-- someone's revealing his plant-based personal life_.' Clark's '_Someone would have noticed a giant_' was also hilarious."

Hodgins snickered. "Booth's whispered "_Snakes_!" to Brennan was funny, as was the way she startled. I thought it was mischeivous, not mean."

Cam smiled as she said "I enjoyed my interaction with Brennan about wanting to hit suspects and how frustrating they are, and how the two of us agreed even as Clark was so horrified."

"Honey," said Angela, shifting the subject slightly. "I'm wondering what was with all those facts you were spouting from Parker's Big Book of Animals if that's not supposed to be some foreshadow-y (it's a word, I say so) thing for whatever Mysterious Health Crisis you're going to have at the end of the season."

Hodgins chimed in. "You know, I wonder if the jokes Booth's been making over the bodies are also a symptom of his Mysterious Illness. Either that or a lousy attempt to match other procedurals' openings, which is dumb, because don't the show's writers know that this is the procedural with _heart_?"

Booth shook his head. "I don't know. I've got to say, though, I'm kind of annoyed by all the foreshadow-y stuff with all the spoilers. Can't we just let the fans try and pick apart what's happening themselves without dropping all this dirt? Wouldn't it just be enough to say "THEY DO IT ALREADY" and let the viewers obsess over every detail of every episode on their own? Because really, I've got to say-- the sheer number of fanfics NOT based on spoilers is getting lower and lower. Not that there aren't a lot of lovely spoiler-based fics, there are, but it's kind of taking away from the "normal" fantasy life of a "normal" fanfiction writer." He then looked up, wondering if blc would smite him.

(No. I admit that it's ... ahem ... a wee-bit obsessed to care about a tv show so much.)

Sweets thought some more, then steepled his hands. "Are all these cartoon references supposed to be foreshadow-y for a certain (to some viewers) _horrifying_ spoiler about the end of the season? In "_Foam_," it was Brennan saying Booth needed to get fewer scientific references from cartoons, and in this episode, Booth not only said he's a Bugs and Daffy kind of guy during that conversation with me, but also had that "_Yes, Pinky Stumps the Brain_" moment in the opening."

Clark, looking hesitant and disturbed, spoke then. "Although the author of this fic really hates indulging thoughts on this season being a Patrick Duffy/ Dallas thing after Booth wakes up from a coma or just from surgery after being shot in "_Wannabe_" she has a theory that occurred to her with all the pleasantness of primates flinging malodorous feces-- specifically, that the inconsistencies are a product of Booth's subconscious, particularly Brennan's alternation between clueless and intuitive-- that these are manifestations of Booth's confusion and longing that Brennan be the one to make the first move, and that she demonstrate it in a way that is obvious to him, including her wanting to get pregnant and have his baby. Hence, the increasingly feminine outfits Brennan wears, including this week's really, really low cut black shirt/maroon peasant skirt thing. That was really low cut, by the way. And thus, it's all a confused dream. And ... what was up with the dice in the interrogation room with the benefactress' medical student son? That's not a poker chip. That's itchy hands. Has he used the dice in past episodes?"

Sweets sat there, stunned. "Oh, _man_. That _SUCKS_. I _hate_ that. That almost makes sense. Oh, man. _Curse you_, blc."(I _know_. I'm shaking my fist at myself, too_._)

Cam decided it was time to get the wrap-up back on track. "Alright. We all agree that there were some serious, important, lovely interpersonal moments and individual character developments this episode, and I think we can all agree that the show dealt importantly with the complex issues of morality, and how one person who is admirable in many ways can be nonetheless human, but did anyone besides me feel like the crime part of it was rushed?"

Sweets nodded. "Yeah. First of all, we didn't even know who the murderer was at first, she was just a blink in the initial walk through at the hospital. Then, we don't even now how she came to be fighting with him, much less whacking him with that snake stick. Did she draw him off? Why? Next, I don't care if her dress was black or not-- blood from a femoral bleed out is going to look wet and smell bad. She wouldn't have been able to just go back to that party, not without someone guessing. I can't believe someone talking to her wouldn't notice, or would attribute any bloody smell to the animals surrounding them."

"Right. And ... did she run back to get the plastic knife from the party before she tried to tie off the bleeding? Did she have it with her, and why? How far was the snake house and capibera enclosure from the party, and how far was the tiger habitat from there and how did she manage to drag a man with that much blood from the site of his death to the tiger enclosure without there being a blood trail that the FBI techs should have found when they swept the whole park for evidence? And ... wouldn't the tiger have been as interested in her as the dead body? That's one damned brave freaked out affair-having nurse. Why didn't anyone at the party hear the scuffle, notice her absence, or notice his absence either?" Booth looked annoyed at the shoddy procedural aspects. He hadn't even really got to do much sexy tricky interrogation this episode-- the only witnesses were dead ends.

Brennan followed up on her marvelous Booth's intelligent, articulate exclamation. "While it was nice that Angela was able to determine the weapon through her computer simulation, and she and I were able to use Hodgins' determination that the particulates in the wound to find the clutch and the murderer while reviewing the films, I felt like that the snake scale result should have come earlier, from a scientific perspective. It wouldn't have taken two days to determine that information, which makes me think the writers delayed it intentionally. It felt like there was just a lot of thrashing around on the case part of the show so there was enough time to deal with the interpersonal things. And, we used to re-enact the whole thing on the Angelator before going out to get the warrant and obtain the confession. This just felt like a tack-on, as did the hospital fundraiser Mrs. Annenberg and her son. It just felt like fill-in."

Everyone sighed. They missed the Angelator, and the chance for the partners to make goo-goo eyes around it. Booth looked at his brilliant Bones lovingly. She was getting a real gut for these things, whether she would admit it or not.

Cam nodded. "What did people think about the men are pigs thing? I thought Brennan's "_and that bothers you_" statement was more about curiousity rather than confusion or disagreement, and that Angela's joking intervention and my agreement were too much of a put down on her."

"I agree," Brennan said. "Although it was nice to have some girl bonding and that naughty, mischeivous smile of mine when I teased you about Hodgins."

Booth smiled and experienced a prominent bulge in his well-tailored slacks about how hot that smile of Brennan's was. Every other man at the table bulged likewise, which distracted Booth enough from his hard-on that he shot the Evil Booth Glare around the table.

Angela ignored the men, since they were all pigs anyway, and addressed Cam and Brennan again. "The clothing was varied this episode. Booth had his red socks at one point, and I feel mysteriously compelled to point out that he looked good in that suit, and we've already noted that weird low-cut top of Bren's. And while I looked cute in my jogging clothes, you think I'd get dressed before going out with Sweets. Cam had some great suits and more professional-looking clothes. Brennan had that weird lumpy beige and black thingy going during the heart-to-heart with Cam, though. What was _that_?"

Brennan shook her head. "I don't really know, but at least they don't have me doing the Busty McBusterson one-button suit thing I was doing at the start of the season." Booth nodded agreement, then took another slice of Bones' coffee cake, because he was hungry. He was always hungry. He wondered if it had to do with some physical or emotional hunger he experienced as a Child of an Alcoholic, or as a Prisoner of Torturers, or some other Dark Thing-- he wasn't sure, there was still a lot of back story to work through. Or maybe he was just hungry. Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar, after all. Even on _Bones_, a show where every viewer tried to invest every moment with Unspoken Meaning. Because really, who wouldn't? Booth and Brennan are Soulmates. Everything has deeper meaning if it results in them getting to JUST DO IT ALREADY.

The characters exchanged a few more unimportant comments, then gathered their things and went home, leaving the two partners alone together for the first significant period of time since the last episode. Booth and Brennan exchanged loving smiles as they watched the rest of the characters head off to their indistinct homes, then stood and walked down the stairs.

"What are we going to do tonight, Bones?" asked Booth, waggling his eyebrows and speaking in a cockney-tinged voice as they stopped for a moment.

Brennan smiled wickedly and rubbed her hands together, her voice taking on a portentous tone. "The same thing we do every night, Booth. Try to take over the world-- by being amazingly good looking people having M-rated sex."

"Cool," said Booth, dropping the Pinky voice and picking up Brennan, then jogging out of the lab with her over his shoulder as she protested laughingly.

As their voices receded from the lab, the Sea Chimps heard Brennan just laugh when Booth said "I love when Pinky _shtups_ the Brain."

* * *

**_Hopefully my relative speed in getting this up for you makes up for the delay on my last one! Thanks, as always, to everyone who reads and reviews..._**


	26. The Science in the Physicist

_**To MickeyBoggs, dawnsfire, doctorsuez and celtic33-- big ups for your thoughts as always.

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**The Science in the Physicist**

"Finally," Angela said, satisfied. "Canonical proof I'm not the only one around here who squeals."

The characters began laughing uproariously, glad that at least one trope of fanfiction was upended by this week's episode. Everyone, that is, except for the partners, who flinched and put their hands to their temples. Both still had killer headaches from that time in the vibration chamber, regardless of whether or not the WTF Writers had them hanging out at a bar mere hours after a near-death experience. (Although, did you see, and/or obsessively re-watch that part of the episode? They were TOTALLY holding hands before they passed out.)

"Maintain low tones," Brennan said flatly, squinting and waving her hand at the rest of the characters. "Booth and I both have headaches." Sweets snorted at Brennan's unwitting Coneheads reference, but said nothing.

Booth meanwhile cautiously nodded agreement, trying to avoid jarring his head. It didn't work, and steeling himself, he pushed out of his chair and walked over to the railing over the platform. "Hey! Tinky Winky! Thought you were bringing us aspirin!" he called, wincing at the sound of his own comforting baritone voice. He then returned to the table, sitting gingerly down next to his equally migraine-ridden Bones. He adopted her position, eyes closed and fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

The senior Sea Chimp flew up to land next to the partners, then opened his oversized red purse. "Sorry, Agent Booth," he said quietly, then handed each partner four aspirin, a bottle of water, some hot chicken soup, and a special blend of herbal tea that La-La concocted, setting the array out on some new-pressed linen placements and nicely-polished silver spoons. The entire thing was capped out with a few small tapers in a crystal candle holder and three daisies in a Wedgwood vase.

"Dude, you have another dimension in there or what?" Hodgins asked, fascinated by both the space and the thermal insulating properties of his creation's red purse.

"Yes," the big purple krill trilled, thrilled that Hodgins would address him directly. ("Hodgins!" he thought inwardly.) "It happened last week after last week's wrap-up wrapped up."

Booth's hand found Brennan's, their fingers twining a moment as they both recalled the extra-dimensional lovemaking they'd had last week to celebrate Brennan's moving Cam to save Michelle from the Evils of Orphanhood. "Thank you," the anthropologist then said to the senior Sea Chimp, giving him a light smile. Tinky Winky's heart skipped a beat. How did Booth get any work done if Brennan smiled at him like that? After all, Tinky Winky was a meta-fictional construct and ought to be immune from Brennan's ethereal beauty-- but apparently she was so beyond anything anyone had ever seen that even cartoon sea monkeys weren't safe from worshipping Brennan. Tinky Winky sighed a big plush purple sigh, then sighed again for good measure before winging his way back to the Champagne Pool.

Cam spoke then, eager to begin. "Well, while it might just be another continuity matter, as there was no real mention of my Major Life Change, I think the fact that I was missing from the end scene in the bar means I was home taking care of Michelle. And I got a chance to get my Mad Stern Mothering Skillz on with Hodgins and Vincent."

Everyone laughed, Booth and Brennan included. (Fictional aspirin works fast.) The characters all loved how the two male scientists cringed when the pathologist chastised them in her ball-busting way. _She is definitely a too-much-car-MILF, _Vincent thought. _But boy would I love to MILF her_. His brain then automatically began searching for information about when that term was first coined and in what context. Was it Desperate Housewives? Sex in the City? _Thank God for the Interwebs_, Source of all Knowledge, he thought to himself. He'd go look it up on Urban Dictionary as soon as the wrap up was over.

Booth shot the intern a look, overhearing the sexual thought-- but he said nothing, since at least Factoid Boy knew not to think Dirty Thoughts About Bones. That was Booth's job, and Booth's job alone. The agent then shared a look with Hodgins, who gave him the nod-- the kind of nod men who know other men are thinking about their beloveds (or "lovahs," as Vincent said) give one another as they silently debate how best to kill the bastard daring to think dirty thoughts about Their Women.

Sweets, down at the other end of the table, caught a glare from Dr. Hodgins and was glad he was sitting between Cam and Brennan. He didn't know why the entomologist looked so grouchy or why he kept clutching his arm, but he suspected the former had to do with Sweets' admission that he'd been hot for Angela, and the latter with Hodgins' ending up in the desert.

"I've got to say, Angela," Sweets said, putting thoughts into words, "while I do love your character's caring interactions with Dr. Hodgins this episode, I found the entire situation with your father extremely surreal and completely disconnected to the rest of the show. It was like part of it was filmed by a rogue writer and DoP on LSD, then spliced in with no respect for the flow of the rest of the story."

"Damn," muttered Booth. "He's getting good."

Brennan nodded quietly, then spoke to her handsome, capable Booth. "Yes, though it still makes me wonder why we're going to be getting Dr. Wyatt back. Sweets has really become part of the team, and is surely able to opine that we are still the Most Effective Crimefighting Team in America."

"Best Crimefighting Team in America, Bones," Booth corrected, then wondered why there were points in the narrative thus far where things were Randomly Capitalized. Did the author spend last weekend reading Winnie-the-Pooh to her flu-ridden godchildren? (Why, yes, why do you ask? Oh, come on. Like you don't pick up syntax and usage things like that when you read. _You_ try reading Jane Austen and then write something. You'll see what I'm talking about. It's all "Oh, Agent Booth, I do thank you for your kind attentions," and "Really, Dr. Brennan, if I may be so bold as to say...." Ahem. Sorry.)

Hodgins stopped glaring at Sweets long enough to shoot Vincent a half-guilty, half-pleased look at the way their Crazy Experiments went during the episode. While it was true-- why the hell hadn't Cam at least seen the fallacy in the frozen turkey experiment, since she worked with Bone Wrapping and ought to know if it would bounce when it was frozen-- and it was Major Suck that Angela got winged by the flying frozen turkey wings (Vincent still thought she should have said "just a flesh wound" instead of calling it a "glancing blow," but then again, he _was _British and Python was a running internal narrative for most Brits. Regardless, however, it would have gone well with his joke about needing a big pot of tea at the start of the show.) But, still. The cannon experiment? Yes, it was stupid for them to do it when Brennan said not to, but could any viewer really begrudge them what resulted in that HOT teaser from the promo and almost as HOT a reality when viewers saw the actual shot?

"Best Bodyslamming Team too, studly," Angela purred. "Bren looked totally stunned and turned on when you slammed her into that wall-- you too. The air was crackling between you two like one of those static electricity generators at the Science Museum. And the way you guys grabbed hands and ran out of there like gleeful children at play? I had to ... well, this is a T-Rated fic, but suffice to say it ended with a cigarette and a shower."

Booth smirked as he put down his now-empty bowl of delicious chicken soup. It _was_ a hot interaction, and he did look good in his suit in that scene, if he thought so himself. "What I don't get, though, is why I slammed her into the wall when I didn't know where the explosion was coming from. Slamming her into the floor like I did during that moment in Season Three in the Gormogon vault would still be safest in terms of my shielding her, since I couldn't possibly know that the wall wouldn't explode. You would think that as a Trained Sniper and Bad Ass Mofo Army Ranger Scary FBI Dude and Self-Appointed Bodyguard, I would want to get Bones to a level, un-volatile surface like the ground so that I could shield her from anything coming from any other direction. And it would give me the chance to look deeply into her eyes in the hope Bones will throw her arms around me, cry '_My Hero!_' and propose to me. Because really, I think that's what it's going to take at this point for me to Grow a Pair and Tell Her I Love Her Already."

Cam shook her head in agreement. "Tell me about it. Michelle and I were totally squeeing over the online replay of the scene of you two in the vibration chamber where when you were both passed out next to each other, it was clear that you'd been holding hands until Dark Oblivion pulled you under."

Everyone sighed in happy remembrance, then sighed again for good measure. There were lots of shipper-licious moments this episode, and the hand-holding scenes were just scratching the surface-- although Brennan's tenderly testing the surface of her beloved Booth's face after Dr. Collar mistakenly punched him was also totally squee-worthy-- as observed and witnessed by Sweets' unrepentant "awww" in the interrogation room. And the scene at the end in the bar where their shoulders were touching as she told him he knew how to use intelligence, and he said "Thanks, Bones," in that warm, gravelly tone of his? Totally, royally squee-worthy.

"Dark Oblivion?" Hodgins murmured under his breath. "Have you been reading your feminist smut again?"

Cam blushed but snorted regardless. "Yeah," she said. "So what? I have a whole new video of you and Angela in the Egyptian room to hold over your heads."

"True that," Jack said, subsiding. _Rats, _he thought to himself. _Nearly blown up, tattooed and left two miles from the road in the middle of nowhere in Texas, and now I'm blackmailed again. I better get some good action soon, or at least a successful experiment with Wendell soon. _Damn, he missed Wendell.

Vincent scratched his head, puzzled by some facts he didn't know. A fire grew in his belly as the need to stoke his Quest to Know A Little Bit About Everything set in. "How did the blind guy know where the shots came from or see how to open that door? His echo-locator glasses wouldn't give him that kind of detail, and there was no indication that anyone besides Dr. Collar was there to help the partners out from the room. Regardless of that inconsistent detail, why would he remain a suspect under those circumstances? He clearly wouldn't have saved their lives if he was the actual murderer."

Cam and Brennan both smiled, approving of Mr. Nigel-Murray's growing ability to focus upon Pertinent Facts, not just Random Blather. Brennan then spoke in her husky, melodious alto. "That's a very good point. And that raises several other questions, aside from my just pausing to note that the scene when Booth and I are let out of the vibration room was too long and farcical, like a good SNL skit let gone one minute too many. And those questions are-- why on earth would we confront all three suspects at the same time so as to give them an opportunity to get their stories straight, while looking like unprepared fools in the process? And why would we do the confrontation at the Hoover anyway, when it would be better to collar Collar or beam up Pond Scum Scottie at their place of work? Why hadn't I already figured out the pond scum detail with Dr. Hodgins back in the lab so that we'd have had another opportunity for Ambiguous Eyesex and Intellectual Bonding? I mean, those kinds of in-lab Mad-Crimefigtin'-Brainstormin' over details that nail the case down were the kind of ensemble work that made S1 and S2 viewers become so loyal, because it meant that it was all over but the chase or confession at the end of the episode, with no surprises or ridiculous questions about how we reached those conclusions."

Hodgins nodded. "It wouldn't have taken that long, and that attention to detail and more natural timeline compression is what made this show so beloved before this season's WTF writers took over with their crack-smoking ways. And I think I would have welcomed more time for intellectual bonding with Dr. B. Although I'm not sure. That look that I gave her as she walked away, looking so innocently pleased at my compliment about the Marks She'd Left on Me-- well, it was ambiguous, that's for sure."

Booth's hackles smoothed as Hodgins outright acknowledged perplexity at the look his character gave Brennan as she walked away, and he entered the debate willingly. Well, as willingly as not drawing his gun. After all, he liked Hodgins. (Who doesn't?) "I know. Was it just friendship? It wasn't really flirtation. Was it consideration of opportunities to spend more platonic time with my Bones? _My_ Bones, by the way. _Mine_. But anyway. Were you seeing her in a different way just because she gave you that magical childlike smile of hers and it turned your brain to goo? I don't know, and the way this season is going, I really don't like anything being ambiguous. No sir, I don't. And, um, did I mention, _MY_ BONES?"

Booth calmed only when Brennan rubbed the back of his neck with her precise, delicate fingers, then whispered "finish my soup for me, Seeley?" in a husky, seductive tone. Booth immediately cheered and slurped down the rest of Bones' bowl. Jealousy made him hungry.

Angela nodded, missing the intimate tete-a-tete between Semperance, Soulmates Forever. "Me either, studly. I mean, yeah, Jack now has a tattoo of me on his arm, and I completely agree that the part of the story with my Dad was so dissonant with the rest as to be jarring, but still-- they can't go angsting up Hodgela by siccing one or both of us on Semperance. Just, BAD."

"BAD," chorused every other character. "VERY, VERY BAD." Although it _was_ a good look, complex and subtle, whatever its unfortunate meaning was in the whacked-out minds of the writers. Who didn't love Hodgins doing his cute considering blue-eyed twinkly smiling thing? No one, that's who. ("Hodgins!" Sea Chimps trilling and swilling champagne, etc.)

"Okay. Annoying stuff, go," Cam ordered.

"Cancer chair? Come on," Booth scoffed. "They made me look like a pansy again. And ... in _The Man in the Morgue_ I knew Latin, but now Bones is translating that stupid-ass institute motto for me? Do they forget I have a master's degree and was a choirboy? I'm not a complete moron, and I _have_ been watching the Discovery Channel with Parker as well as admitting I learned stuff from Bones. I mean, how cute was that? And I think I was inexplicably cranky with Cam at the start with the whole frostbitten mountain climber asteroid thing ... I mean, I should know by now my squints can't be rushed and that if I just give them time we will Achieve Justice for our Victims. I wouldn't expect Parker to rush his experiments, after all. "

Each character said "awwww" to themselves in their heads at the sweet Papa Booth moment.

Brennan stroked her strong jaw and beautiful chin thoughtfully. "If we knew all along that publication was a possible motive, why on earth weren't we going through Dr. Sidmond's computer to review the journal submissions and her email and correspondence to see if there was someone in house whose submission was a time-sensitive issue, in order to narrow the field? Hodgins and I are both familiar with academic publishing and would have been able to winnow through the submissions successfully. And ... it would have allowed us to rule out the head scholar and left Milton as the prime suspect, whose opening scene, by the way, was such an obvious attempt at deflection that I can't believe Booth fell for it. It could have at least been something that Angela could discover in reviewing those data files to come out and add as Hodgins and eye have an intense blue-eyed intellectual interchange with Booth's pertinent questions allowing us all to hone in on justice."

Sweets agreed. "It's true. The head scholar should have been ruled out early on. And the interrogation room confrontation was dumb. Though I wouldn't want Dr. Collar not to be there for the interrogation of Milton, since that sweet punch he accidentally landed on Booth led to that sweet moment between you two."

Booth snorted. It was a sweet moment. AND, Bones had totally listened to his little metaphorical speech about leaving marks on someone and not taking Collar up when he asked her out on a date. Which made it twice in a season, first Wexler, now this. Maybe he was getting somewhere. (Yeah. Like a _**glacier**_.) Booth then reflected that really, he was becoming all talk and no action, and fanfiction writers were getting tired of it and writing lots of fics where Bones goes a bit apeshit on him for making promises he never acts on. Which is stupid. He's a gd-d action hero, fer chrissakes. That body slam should have _totally_ ended in a kiss.

"What did we think of the opening sequence?" Cam asked.

"Eh," Angela said, waving her hand. "It was okay. I don't think fashion photographers are so stereotypical, but at least it was visually interesting and gave Bren the entree to make two jokes even as she said she wasn't making them, and that cute australeopithicus/ softball analogy."

"You know, I found it perplexing that Booth would yet again express doubt to Brennan about his intelligence when we've already had two prior episodes where she's told him she thinks he's smart," Angela added. "Sure, Brennan was really in her element this episode with her peers and seemed to contribute more to the questioning than usual, and was more sensitive in breaking the news, but there still shouldn't have been any reason for Booth to start doubting all over again her thoughts about him. So that whole "_I know how stupid you are_" thing that the end was mostly annoying-- though it was sweet how right then and there Brennan was paying attention to what she was saying and kept working at it until she basically got out what she was saying. And am I bad for just loving the way Booth says '_Thanks, Bones_,' when she compliments him in that husky-voiced, puppy-dog-eyed way that he has? I just want to, well, it is a t-rated fic."

Sweets snorted. "I thought my comment about '_a backhand full of knuckles in that compliment_' was hilarious, and I felt all self-esteem-y and stuff when Dr. Brennan said she thought I was right to call that Hadron Collider stalker nutjob when we were conducting that interrogation. I also must say I didn't care for the way the WTF Writers made all those hyper-rational scientists into a bunch of hornball rabbits going at it all the time. It's one thing for Brennan to pretend to herself that her conduct of her sexual life has nothing to do with her Deep Emotional Wounds, but the way these scientists' bedhopping led both Booth to beat Dr. Brennan over the head with moralizing was excessive. At least I noted that Agent Booth was using a wicked lot of quotes when he was browbeating Brennan about sexual practices. Although, his Club Med Mensa crack was amusing."

Cam nodded agreement. "While I thought that Seeley's Steve Martin imitation was amusing when Brennan twitted him on his hang ups, the evident and moralizing disdain he showed to the suspects during the investigation was professionally inappropriate, and his conversation about the marks we leave on people was less of a classic Booth/Brennan moment and more of a manipulative attempt to worm out a confession from Brennan of something Booth needs to just ask about, straight out. He just wants to know if she was trying to scrape him off after he died, and that's still the Great Unresolved Storyline of the season. Well, along with Taffett as the Gravedigger. He was being really passive-aggressive about wanting her to say no to Collar if he asked her out on a date-- I've got to admit, not only was his actor quite good, he was pretty darn studly-looking. And he was smart and charming in his way-- the fact that Booth had a distaste for him didn't mean that he would have failed to appreciate Brennan for the woman she is-- after all, he'd essentially admitted he was wrong to keep Brennan out of the Collar."

Brennan and Angela nodded. Landis Collar _was_ studly, even if his hair was a little weird. His actor was not as studly as Booth, but he was certainly moreso than the other guest and regular male characters this week. And he was studly enough to make Booth stagger when he punched him.

Vincent chimed in again. "I don't know about the leukemia aspect of things-- but I did read on a science blog that the counteraction of the effects of the vibration chamber and the effect on the frozen body was plausible. It didn't make our heroes' yelling at each other after their rescue any less annoying, however."

Sweets chuckled appreciation in remembrance of his little bit of bonding with Vincent. He was enjoying the fact that he got to hang out with Vincent and Hodgins at the diner and then went out for drinks with the team at the bar afterward, even with that stupid interaction with Angela's Dad. After all, he could hypnotize people and he wasn't a complete chicken-- you'd think he could have come up with something placatory to say, rather than just turn tail and run. But again, that whole substory was hinky. What did he expect?

Cam nodded-- "Dr. Brennan and I had a quick but nice and serious interaction about the leukemia Dr. Sidmonds suffered, and Angela got to reconstruct the mechanism of the body's destruction to finally allow us to decide what to look for, even if it wasn't on the Angelator. Don't the WTF writers get it, though? Viewers want the show's big giant hologram machine back on a regular basis. Those product placement computer monitors are annoying. And, well, it's the elephant in the room, but I'll ask it. Why the hell would you guys go into the vibration chamber like that anyway? Don't you two know that every tv show that needs drama locks its protagonists in an enclosed space, when they should have just been more careful? For two smart people, you guys really were dumb."

Booth shook his head abashedly. "I blame that on the WTF writers. But that hand-holding as we fell unconscious thing had to count for something, doesn't it?"

Everyone nodded. It totally did.

"Well," Hodgins said, clapping his hands. "Let's wrap this up. I have a tattoo removal appointment to get to. Maybe. I'm not sure. But anyway. I was kind of annoyed at the way Booth called Brennan creepy, and enjoyed that small flash of hurt over Brennan's face when Booth looked away. Very subtle, Dr. B's actor. At least she called him on it explicitly, rather than suppressing it, and he apologized, leading in to that whole where is Booth's element conversation. At least our heroes are actually expressing their insecurities to one another outside of session."

Sweets nodded, though he was a bit concerned. If the partners kept on like that, he could only be used as a profiler, and he was damned worried about the imminent appearance of the esteemed and beloved Dr. Wyatt. After all, Sweets reflected, his character was way less annoying and far more a part of the team, but Dr. Wyatt's actor was a mega-super-duper star and that actor's best friend had the Starring Role in another Quirky Drama on the same network as a Crotchety Doctor with Mad Diagnostic Skillz. If Dr. Wyatt's actor decided he wanted to hop the pond, Sweets was totally screwed. Totally. But he would keep this to himself-- Dr. Brennan's emotional repression skills did have some use, after all. "I thought Booth's comment about Brennan being the only smart person he really liked was quite sweet, along with the face touching thing." He knew that subject had been touched upon already this wrap up, but it was just so darned cute that it was worth touching on again.

"I did, however, find it veeeerrrry interesting when Brennan and Booth were waiting for those scholars to finish getting it on-- remember they finished up the marks conversation and then Booth says sarcastically "_You heard me, but you just didn't understand me_," and then Brennan says very intentionally "_Yeah, I wonder that about you, all the time_." That was very interesting. She had a challenging look on her face, and there was a very confused look on his, as though he was trying to think over what Brennan might have said sometime that he didn't get. I think that comment leaves lots of room for viewers to conclude that Brennan does know how she feels but is trying to let Booth decide if he still wants the line, because he's different than everyone else."

"Damn," Booth muttered again. "He really is good."

On that thoughtful note, the characters gathered their things and headed down the stairs toward the Founding Fathers for a post-post-ep-wrap-up drink.

"Are you coming?" asked Vincent, as the two partners sat there thoughtfully holding hands and each feeling the thrill of the other's proximity.

Agent Booth shot Factoid Boy a brief smile. "Yeah. We'll meet you there." Once the intern was gone, he turned to Brennan. "Bones, you know that no matter what angst the WTF writers put us through once we Finally Do It, that you're my soulmate, the love of my life, my precious-wecious shmoopie bear?"

Brennan smiled gently as Booth's warm, manly, my-God-look-at-those-fingers hand enveloped her own. "I do, Booth. I do. I also know that if the show jumps the shark that we will live on in Real Character if only in fanfiction, and have lots of M-Rated sex. Although I'm hoping we don't jump the shark, and that we have beautiful crimefighting babies during a monogamous relationship, whether in a marriage or not. There's hope. I heard the network ordered episodes for Season Five."

"Cool," Booth retorted, waggling his eyebrows. "Wanna go have a little They Ordered More Episodes Celebratory Earth-moving Sex before we go to the bar?"

Brennan conducted an internal inventory. "Maybe later. I've still got a headache."

And with that, she rose and headed down the stairs, leaving Booth with a flummoxed expression. He heard her, but he didn't understand her. He didn't know what that meant. He was Booth, the cure for all ills that ailed all women. It was like … well, it was just unnatural. Women always wanted to have sex with him, all the time. Even Bones. Why would she turn him down? Even just for a delay? Something portentous was going on.

"Bones?!? Hey, Bones!" he called, hustling after her. "Wait up! We need to talk!"

* * *

_**So-- again with the delays in getting this up. Flu-ridden godchildren, then a flu-ridden me.  
It doesn't mean I don't love you, or Bones. I promise.**_


	27. The Cinderella in the Cardboard

_**A/N:**_

_**Many thanks to the usual post-episode suspects, MickeyBoggs, dawnsfire, celtic33 and doctorsuez, as well as thoughts from SuchAGoodGirl and Robert Modean that made their way into this more serious wrap-up.  
**_

* * *

Cinderella in the Cardboard

Booth was sitting alone at the table in the lounge, wondering where everyone was when the squints and Sweets started to file up the stairs from some squint conference room at the side of the lab.

Relieved that he hadn't missed some memo relocating the post-episode wrap-up to the bar or some other location, Booth got up to start a new pot of coffee, then opened his Tupperware and set out the cookies within onto some china his grandmother left him. Presentation counts, after all. That done, Booth sat to wait for the squints. He was glad all over again that he'd made his famous lime meltaways when he saw the expressions on everyone's faces. He just hoped they would serve to offset the way the WTF writers had him treat Bones this episode. He sure as hell hoped it was all some build up to his Mysterious Illness, and that his crankiness was only a symptom of that, and not an inconsistent understanding of his character. Booth was a gentleman, and while it was entirely fine for him to twit Bones occasionally, this episode had been one non-stop onslaught on Bones, even though his character should know by now how she said she felt about things and the reasons why she did. But his baiting her and telling her she didn't know what she was talking about and that she'd change her mind about marriage throughout?

Sure, maybe Bones was in a lot of denial-- but so was his character. Why did Bones have to be the one to completely come around to Booth's point of view? Why couldn't Booth admit that there were some valid points to Bones' experience, perhaps admit that some things were more important than labels and ideals-- the practical, tangible now, for example? The woman he had right in front of him? The one who kept visiting him at his apartment? He shook his head. This episode was painful to watch in lots of ways, the inconclusive end only the tip of the iceberg.

By this time, the squints had reached the top of the stairs and started to file in around Booth, where he sat at the top of the table.

"Heart of stone," Hodgins said, slapping Booth on the back of the head.

"Dr. Burn in Hell?" Angela asked, flicking his ear.

"Complicated emotions-- definitely not your thing?" Wendell asked, administering a wet willy Booth didn't cringe fast enough away from. Cam and Sweets grumbled at him as they came in and took their seats, and the agent's gut feeling as soon as the episode ended that this wrap-up would be painful only solidified.

The only person who said nothing was Bones. She sat down at the opposite end of the table from Booth, her look as rueful and thoughtful and sad as it was at the end of the episode when they sat at Booth's apartment, drinking his scotch. His heart twinged as he realized this was the first post-episode wrap-up where they hadn't sat next to each other, their hands twining, their physical presences reassuring the other.

"I agree," he said, raising his hands. "I get it. Really, I do. Jackass Booth was fully in play for most of the episode. It's why I brought my special lime meltaways-- a little sweetness to offset the bitterness of another episode's ending with another vague promise. Maybe it's the fact that this season has been so up and down that left at least some viewers especially dissatisfied with the concluding Booth/Brennan moment, but ... I'm just so tired of the two of us running in circles."

The characters all looked at each other sadly, shooting sidelong looks at Brennan, who still said nothing as she watched Booth and kept looking thoughtful. "Come here, studly," said Angela, smoothing her hand over Brennan's arm on the table, then crooking her finger at Booth.

Doing as bid, the agent half stood and leaned in toward the artist, a woman he'd always respected as having his Bones' best interests at heart. As he reached the halfway point, Angela stood quickly and dope-slapped Booth in the forehead. "Frickin' cookies won't cure my Bren's heartache," Angela grumbled, her normally warm and knowing brown eyes glinting with anger.

"That's enough," said Brennan quietly. "It's not Booth's fault that the WTF writers have escalated Booth's apparent frustration with our not being together and what I see as his willful blindness to the increasing number of cues I've been trying to send him to say that I could be willing to compromise on some of my views. The fact that the WTF writers keep having me be so quick to deny any hint that we are together is a hackneyed display of avoidance on my part, even as we both loudly insist that the other is completely wrong while asserting that we each are right on our moral imperatives. That notwithstanding, however, I do think that Booth was the louder and less sensitive of the two of us this episode, especially since I was displaying such concern for Sweets' emotional well-being-- but instead of sitting me down to explain in real detail about why Sweets should be able to find things out for himself, he just hectored me. But really-- I do blame it on the WTF writers."

Booth smiled at Brennan, his words of thanks dying in his mouth as she looked away as soon as their eyes met. "Don't I at least get any credit for being right about the fact that she shouldn't have said anything to Sweets? Or for the fact that I helped the kid figure out what to do?"

"No, actually, you don't," Sweets said, leaning forward and fixing Booth with a stare. "Granted, Dr. Brennan's delivery of the news to me was blunt. Painful. Awkward. But she meant well and had my best interests at heart when she told me something she thought it was important I know. The fact that she was empathetic enough to want to save me the pain of finding out for myself after it was too late to make a reasoned decision really says something. And granted, she could have phrased the revelation better, saying only what she saw without foisting a conclusion upon me. But-- I find it interesting that everyone else on the show shied away from telling me what they knew, and told Brennan that being honest about matters of the heart wasn't the best way to deal with things-- it's like she's finally started to reach out, and everyone slaps her down. Including you, Agent Booth."

He pursed his lips thoughtfully, looking serious and reflecting at the fact that his character had some nice development and range in this show and was given an opportunity to show a bit of his personal life. "Moreover, while your actor's execution of the scene and the writing was exceedingly clever and well done, the fact that your character mocked my pain by pretending to be me in session stung more than a bit. I mean, I reach out to you seriously and you just make fun of me by mimicking my physical posture, verbal delivery, and therapeutic demeanor? Dude. Not cool. Especially since you were willing to let me wallow in ignorance otherwise." He thought some more, then continued.

"And ... I'm still not completely satisfied, though it was nice to show I have a sex life right there on the floor of my office. It may be just a WTF writers failure to wrap up details kind of thing, but Daisy still didn't explain why there were multiple occasions when she cancelled on me or why our sex life has been less than stellar, since as far as I can tell, that dress shopping episode was only once, and why the hell wouldn't she tell me about it anyway? I mean, we're supposed to be all lovey-dovey smoochy-face and she can't just say _'oh, my cousin's out of town and I'm going to try on some dresses for her during this bridal sale_?' Something's rotten in Denmark, my friends. And ... finally-- while I totally get your not hugging thing, and I thought it was funny the way I winced at that manly man slug on the shoulder, that whole end to that scene proved it all over again-- you lie to Dr. Brennan about your true feelings to her."

"Yeah," Wendell muttered. "'_I don't hug it out_?' Puh-leeze. Have you looked at all the guy hug montages on YouTube? You're in just as much denial as Dr. Brennan, Booth." He glowered at the Agent some more, wondering if maybe the fluoroscope he'd borrowed from Egyptology might reveal what the episodes this season didn't so far, namely WTF the writers were thinking. And ... how the hell did he get that machine across the lab and up on the platform? That machine sure looked big. Maybe the winged Sea Chimps helped.

"I don't disagree," Booth conceded. "But what do you want me to do? If any of us had the writers' ears, you know this season would be totally different. Let's just remember. Onscreen Inconsistent Booth? Not the same as Real Character Booth, the one who appeared in Finger in the Nest and Con Man and almost all of S1-S3. So ... separate, please? Here, have some cookies," he said, shoving the cookies on their delicate plates toward the characters. "Please?"

The characters still grumbled, but took some cookies regardless, all except Brennan. "Come on Bones, please?" Booth asked, his sincere puppy dog eyes beseeching her.

Brennan shook her head and said "Maybe later, but let's get on with the wrap up for now."

Booth felt a chill at her words and wished more than anything else that he could get up and go sit next to her, touch her, be next to her-- but this was perhaps what he got for physically and mentally manhandling her this episode, pushing and pulling her around at the bridal sale and in the Hoover's kitchen, as well as telling her in his office and at the bar that her view of the world was yet again wrong, and that his ideals about marriage and love and all that jazz were right. He also reflected on the irony of their conversation as they left the bar-- her observation that people wanting monogamy should be honest, and Booth saying that it just wasn't how relationships worked. Hah. Because his not being honest with Bones sure as hell meant they were in a successful romantic relationship. Stuffing those thoughts down, though, Booth began someplace simple.

"Okay," he said quietly. "Lots of use of the FBI sets-- the conference room, the coffee/break room, my office, the interrogation and observation rooms, Sweets' office."

Hodgins nodded-- "And the Founding Fathers twice in an episode, and hey, Wendell, you're even more our number one intern in my book for hooking me up and getting me out of the house. Although how I could say you don't know me when we've done wacky experiments together and gone out on field trips I don't know. Don't the WTF writers know true platonic male squint love when they see it? I mean, seriously. Your character was AWESOME this episode."

Everyone nodded-- Wendell was fabulous this episode, and might well have been the very best part. First, his stealing that fluoroscope was hilarious, what with his innocent "_I left a note_" and then his clever assertion of crime-solving priorities and his deliberate and twinkly-eyed interruption of Cam's reading him the riot act with that well-timed "_I found something_." Of course, there was also the way that another one of his Crazy Job and/or Life Experiences led him to find a way to allow the victim's body to be made available for further examination. Of course, pizza peeling accomplished, Brennan hardly looked at the body and everything was done on the computer thereafter-- what was up with that? At least Brennan and Wendell got to go out on a field trip, always good since everyone likes seeing Brennan interacting with interns and doing squint stuff (TM), _and_ Wendell introduced his friends '_who have breasts_' to Hodgins. ("Hodgins!" cried the otherwise silent Sea Chimps, who then drank some Cristal down in the pool.)

Brennan spoke then. "Angela had some great moments from a squinting perspective, and while sleeveless, that green top she wore was quite flattering, as was her hair when she wore it up during the earlier part of the episode. Between her uncovering the writing on the box, revealing the tire bruising, discovering the photo manipulation-- and I still can't believe I missed that, or that Angela's comment about nasal bridges and cheekbones was so instantly contradicted when she looked at the photos, but anyway-- and using the Angelator to allow for she, Cam and I to agree on how the skull came to be crushed and the murder completed, well, it was a banner squint episode for my Angela."

A chorus of whoops and catcalls rose around the table as each character celebrated the re-appearance of the series' own Transporter-- although they also shuddered somewhat as they recalled that the animation was so good and realistic as to make all three women jump back. "Umm," offered Dr. Sweets. "We all love the Angelator, really, Miss Montenegro-- but ... could you turn off the blood spatter feature next time?"

Angela nodded. "That was pretty gross, hunh? They should have tied it to the place where Brennan found it in the alley, or left it out in the first place." She shook her head, then shifted her thoughts. "I was really happy to see, though, that when Cam, Brennan and I came in to my office, there were canvasses stacked inside the door, proof that I actually paint. There was one thing I didn't get, aside from why in the heck I joined the same dating service as Hodgins, since it seemed like I was just setting myself up for rejection, even as it's not clear if Jack pressed hate or just shut off his phone at the end. Why, if Booth and Brennan arrested the owner, was the dating service still up and running? You would think that they would shut that thing down ASAP when he confessed, since it was essentially one of the tools through which the crime was committed, and the server space, memory, and transactions would all be things that might be needed as evidence."

"Very keen observation, Miss Montenegro," Sweets said, nodding. He didn't agree now that he had time to think of it that Brennan was wrong to have told him the truth, and thinking back on the condescending way in which every other character told Brennan she was wrong for wanting to be honest, those parts of the episode bothered him more and more. He became lost in thought as Cam picked up the thread.

"There was no mention of Michelle," she said, shaking her head, "and anyone want to lay bets regarding the transitioning in of guest stars listed on chat boards who are supposed to appear in the season finale?"

"No way," muttered Wendell. "I'm on scholarship, I won't make a losing bet."

Hodgins nodded agreement. "Well, let's talk some about the case. Body? Gross."

There were ayes all around.

Hodgins continued. "The plastic surgeon? Just an excuse for Brennan and Booth to bicker in front of someone, then awkwardly insist yet again that they aren't involved. The glycerin thing at the bar and the flowers at the bridal shop? It just wasn't relevant in the end. We knew she was getting bridal gown fittings from the pin, and we know she might have been disposed of with boxes from the lounge based on the fact that she was pressed between them and Angela's recovery of the impressed writing on the boxes. And ... the sending back three drinks thing? Why was she so hammered if she was only there long enough to crap all over her old fiance and tell the dating service owner that she wasn't interested? I mean, I found out those maggots were hammered. And can someone explain why Brennan still has a visitor's pass for the Hoover? I mean, she's a permanent contractor. You'd think they could give her a key-card so she could at least hit the little anthropologist's room on her own. I mean, right?"

Booth nodded. "No, I agree. Especially since you squints gave me a key here at the lab. There were a lot of red herrings between the start and the finish. The tie-in with the dating service guy was kind of odd, though the scene with him in the interrogation room was exceedingly well-acted all around. I totally would have bought Blossom the BFF as the killer, I mean-- did you see the way she was completely in love with the fiance, but ... there were too many people who wanted to kill her. Why in the heck would such seemingly nice people as the BFF and both boyfriends put up with her if the victim was as much of a vain controlling wedding-obsessed witch as everyone seemed to try to make her out to be? There was nothing sympathetic at all about the way she was written, and I've got to say that makes me a bit uncomfortable. I don't like it when there's nothing redeeming at all about the person who was killed."

Cam took up the thread. "I didn't get, either, why the suspect backed up and ran over her head again. As upset as he was, I don't see him as hitting her more than once even if he was overtaken by anger. I didn't see quite that level of emotion in the interrogation room scene, even though I thought that scene was incredibly poignant-- the way he seemed to be begging Brennan for understanding as a beautiful woman, the way he confessed to her and not Booth. It was as if he just felt that if Brennan would give him absolution, then he could accept what he'd done."

Booth flinched as if he'd been struck-- it was true. When Bones had that look on her face-- waiting, not judging-- just listening to hear what you'd say? It was nearly impossible not to confess everything to her. He didn't blame the suspect for telling Bones what he'd done and responding to her few verbal prompts as the excuse to tell all. And yet-- Booth hadn't confessed all to Bones when she came to his place and prompted him with a great big red-arrowed "declare your love here" sign to confess how he felt. He couldn't bear the thought at that moment, though, so he deflected. "I think I was weird with the evidence handling. I was all over that bale of cardboard with the bolt cutters, then started shuffling cardboard in my bare hands, but then was so careful with my hanky about picking up the phone-- only for Angela to start handling the thing without any gloves in the lab the next morning. I mean, I assume the thing was already dusted for prints, but if Ange was trying to fix the thing, you'd think she'd be wearing gloves anyway."

Angela nodded. "That was weird. And I thought the opening scene almost bordered on racism, depicting the two Hispanic men as either sexist pigs or God-fearing momma's boys with no in-between. And I've got to say, studly-- while I understand your religion's important to you, you're still a cop. Getting all evangelist on Cam and Bren at the scene isn't exactly objective when there's a dead body to rule out. Much less getting all burn-in-hell on Brennan-- isn't that the kind of thing maybe you should leave up to your God?"

Booth flushed. "Did I have any redeeming qualities during this episode?"

"The picture of Parker on your desk in your office during the scene with the plastic surgeon," Sweets offered.

"You let Sweets and Daisy have your table and lunch while you ... no, never mind. You were manhandling Brennan and telling her that she had to lie to Sweets, that doesn't count." Hodgins shook his head, stroking his beard.

"You looked good in that olive green shirt at the end, but ... no, that was when you made another vague promise," Wendell said, trailing off.

"You used a hanky to pick up that phone..." Angela said, clearly searching her mind.

Everyone paused and looked at each other as Brennan looked thoughtfully on.

"So, handkerchief?" Wendell asked, and his fellow characters nodded.

"Pretty much," Cam concluded matter-of-factly. "Better luck next episode, Seeley."

Brennan spoke then. "He let me in to his apartment when I knocked. He sat down with me on his couch. He was honestly hurting for me even if he either didn't understand, wasn't ready to believe that I was asking him to step up to the plate, or thought that wasn't what I was really asking, not yet. Everything else notwithstanding, there's that."

The other characters were silent as the anthropologist stuck up for her partner, then considered her words. There didn't seem to be anything else left to say at that point, so they got up and filed down the stairs with a few fleeting looks at the partners, who still sat on opposite sides of the table as the other characters left.

"The WTF writers really WTF'd it all up this week, didn't they, Bones?" Booth asked, hoping he'd get a response now that they were alone.

She nodded silently, then sat back in her chair, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I'm tired of this season, Booth. I don't like to whine but ... can't we have a little friendship and stasis rather than this hurt/comfort whipsaw of us taking turns being oblivious and hurting each other?"

Tentatively, Booth got up and came around to Bones' side of the table, leaning on the edge next to her chair. "No, I get it Bones, really, I do," he said, his face lined and weary with the painful thoughts of the episode still fresh in his mind. "Either you're still oblivious which means I have no idea how we're supposed to break through this season with any credibility, or they've got me so scared of opening myself up to you that I may end up driving you away as I continue to fail to respond to your hesitant but repeated attempts to reach out to me and your attempts to put into words some of the thoughts and questions you have."

His face was drawn and his eyes were dark with doubt and concern as he looked at his partner, then mirrored her action and pinched the bridge of his nose. Brennan pushes back in her chair, then stood in front of him. Tipping her head, she fixed him with her quiet regard.

"Want a guy hug?" she asked, her voice almost as whisper. Booth nodded, afraid to say anything further. Carefully, his partner wrapped her arms around Booth's waist, and he heaved an ill-concealed sigh as he wrapped his arms around her in response. The partners stood there, so quiet and still that long moments passed while the overhead lights on their motion sensor clicked off. Their silhouette against the lounge window revealed two people standing so closely that they might as well be just one-- but it was only an illusion. As close as they looked at that moment, they were still far apart.


	28. Mayhem on a Cross

_**A/N:  
**_

_**To everyone who commented on the several Magpies I wrote as tags for this episode and to celtic33, MickeyBoggs, RobertModean, doctorsuez, lizook, hpaich and dawnsfire, I'm sure you'll see many of our ideas and conversations here. Thanks to all.**_

* * *

Mayhem on a Cross

Sweets sat next to Brennan, who sat next to Booth as they waited at the table up in the lounge for the rest to arrive. It was fitting that the woman who bound them together should sit between the two men, though it also made sense about the way they walked out of Sweets' office at the end of the episode-- Brennan knew how she felt about Booth, but needed to maintain the distance between them and make her new duckling feel like he was under not just her wing but theirs.

Brennan didn't always understand why people followed her-- like when Hodgins complimented her after _Physicist_, she was often unaware of her positive effect on people, but the 21st century Mother Courage nevertheless took care of her flock as best she knew how. If it meant renewing some of her old pain to save someone any new pain of their own, she would do it, however artless and raw it might be. Brennan was honest, and if "to a fault" had some continuing credence, then perhaps it applied-- but perhaps not. Brennan personified honesty, and while truth could be uncomfortable, it was also a bedrock on which everything else could rest solidly.

Sweets, watching the anthropologist, shook his head at the flood of revelations this last episode brought. Yes, he was aware that there was lots of back-and-forth on fan boards about which "one" of the partners knew they were in love and struggled with it daily. Yes, he was aware that there was some talk that Wyatt's comment implied that the other "one" knew they were in love and _didn't_ struggle with it, meaning perhaps that Booth was trying to inexorably lead Brennan forward to the conclusion that she loved him too, but Sweets (at least as this author writes him) disagreed.

It was clear that Booth needed Brennan, desperately so, and that her apparent betrayals after _PITH_ and _Con Man_ still cut deeply. It was clear, too, that his sense of self-esteem hinged more tenuously than anyone might have otherwise guessed on her good opinion. It was clear that whatever Booth believed he thought about Brennan, whether it be him telling himself she needed him as a means for justifying how much he needed her, or whether he did have active thoughts about a future with her that he denied himself on the theory that he wasn't worthy, he would do anything to protect her, and honestly (and rightly) believed that she needed to let her walls down regardless. But in Sweets' mind, there were other signals that pointed to Brennan being the partner who really understood what was happening between them, and who also believed that Booth's backing off now that Brennan was ready to let him in particular in was potentially dangerous. How long would Brennan wait, how many signals would she try to lay out for Booth?

First, Brennan had explicitly conceded to Booth in the pony play episode and after _Man in the Outhouse_ that some of her world-views might merit revision after Booth gave a particularly eloquent speech on making love or monogamy, even if she would later revert to her vehement denials of their merit. Booth, however, would never acknowledge that Brennan's positions might ever have any merit to anyone, much less her. He was probably right that she was scared and that was why she would usually deny aloud what she most likely knew was true inside, but Booth could be smug in his morality, despite the fact that Brennan, atheist bed-hopper as she might be was one of the best people he knew-- he wouldn't keep working with her if she was so morally bankrupt and emotionally hopeless.

Next, Sweets was pretty sure that however Brennan may have felt before that, the events culminating in the courtroom scene in _Verdict in the Story_ were proof that Brennan loved Booth and trusted him utterly. But she knew, too, that she couldn't take advantage of his willingness to help her-- she had to give him what she hoped was fair warning, which was why she asked him in the diner what he thought about creating reasonable doubt. His putting himself out on the stand for her, his initial lack of belief that she trusted him so much as to let him put her life on the line-- it was proof that he still struggled with how much Brennan really understood about what he thought of her. Wasn't it possible, after all, that Brennan asked Booth whether she should stay during the whole Sully arc because she was hoping he would tell her to stay, tell her that his still-fresh line was a mistake? Brennan was committed to her work, yes, but she'd been happy with Sully in her way. The fact that she stayed spoke to something more than just work.

Finally, Sweets was extremely relieved that as messed up as Booth's way of revealing himself to Brennan might be, each time Booth did it, Brennan always reacted calmly and with utter acceptance of Booth's revelation. The Serbian general, when Brennan laid her hand on his arm. That his father was a drunk, when she just kept him company and offered him cake in the bus shelter. The way she patted that handkerchief back into his pocket back in Sweets' office. The way she assured Booth that he was a good father when he expressed doubts as to his financial and intellectual capacity to care for his son. Booth didn't seem to know that Brennan had already made up her mind about him despite her brief flash of doubt in _Con Man_ (and was it fair to blame her, after _Pain in the Heart_?)-- and that nothing he told her could really surprise her. She would accept whatever he told her, and knew but didn't press upon the secrets he still hadn't told her, secure in her belief that he was a very good man, as she'd explicitly told him in _Fire in the Ice. _

Booth, though-- Sweets was pretty sure that Booth needed to feel like he knew every detail about his partner because he still wasn't sure how he was allowed to feel about her, so Brennan's revelation in Sweets' office was a double shock to his system.

Booth's thoughts were a fun-house mirror image, twisted and bent, of their therapist's last thoughts. Except for that moment in S1 with Angela about her experiences in El Salvador, Bones had never made such a raw revelation on the show, much less to Booth. There was a part of Booth not simply gasping in shock at the facts she'd revealed that _hurt_-- why hadn't she told him _first_? But beyond that, this episode was perhaps the first time aside from being punched during _PITH_ that Booth witnessed firsthand the storm that was Hurricane Temperance when she let her emotions take over, that courtroom moment in _Verdict_ only a faint version of the passion she had stored inside.

Booth hadn't been there in _WITW _or _Killer in the Concrete _or _Hero in the Hold _to see the lengths to which Brennan would go in order to save him, the complete disregard she had for her own safety or future so long as she saved or avenged Booth. He was shocked, whirling in her wake when she dragged him into Sweets' office and burst out with that horrible truth-- and then was left shocked again when she proved herself able to make an emotional leap far beyond anything he'd have thought her capable of, much less one he was willing or ready to take himself.

Suddenly, without any warning, Booth was on the other side of an emotional chasm from Bones, one she'd already leapt. Her '_your turn_' was a dare, the verbal equivalent of a _'what are you waiting for, isn't this what you've been trying to tell me?_' that was stunning. Shocking. Show-altering. His admission had brought him barely to the other side of that chasm-- if he'd looked at Sweets at all before he'd done saying it, he wouldn't have made it. It was only by looking only at Bones, holding on to that look in her eyes, that he even caught up with her.

How could she be so contradictory? So closed and yet open? So self-denying and generous? He might as well ask himself the same questions. How could he be so devoted to the emotional well-being of others, and yet deny himself the forgiveness he too deserved? How could he claim to see all the shades of grey in people's behavior and morals, and yet miss the subtle but real signs of changes in Bones, someone he almost obsessively studied? How could he demand so much revelation from others, and yet refuse to put himself out there at the same time?

It was the essential conflict, the one Gordon-Gordon set forth for Sweets both in their initial and last scenes together. The partners were the same person-- deeply wounded and scarred, caring more for others than themselves, and capable of more good deeds and higher functioning than people who'd been through far less hell than them. The separate hells they referenced during the interrogation of Pinworm made them strong, skilled and capable, working together, one's strengths reinforcing the other-- as immediately proven by Booth's brilliant application of Brennan's translation of Gordon-Gordon's reference to _Paradise Lost_.

Brennan watched the two men musing on either side of her and wondered at herself only briefly. It had hurt, what she'd said to Sweets, but he needed to hear it to know he wasn't alone, that he was part of their '_more than one kind of family_,' as Booth said so long ago. It hurt more, almost infinitely so, to see Booth be so hurt by her revelation. She still didn't think she merited all the care and attention he invested in her-- she _knew_ she was clumsy and didn't listen to appropriate cautions. She still broke things despite clear and fair warnings-- and she was determined, absolutely determined, to keep Booth from getting locked in that trunk with her. She couldn't stop herself from hurting herself-- but she could do what she could to let others-- Sweets, Booth, any child in her sights-- know that they didn't have to hurt, and could do what she could to protect them. Booth wasn't ready, and didn't know that she knew how she felt.

She'd tried to tell him, but again, here was proof she was clumsy and incapable of learning from fair warning, because he didn't understand her halting attempts for what they were. All the more reason to back away again-- when Booth was ready, could see clearly past his own distress for her to finally understand that she didn't care what he'd been through because she loved him for nothing and anything and everything he'd never told her, he would also clearly see what he often caught glimpses of. She would drop him, just like that saucer, and it would break her as it hadn't broken her then to see him shattered before her. Better to do as she'd done and keep him from getting too close. He couldn't break if she didn't take hold-- he couldn't break or be broken by someone so imperfect and clumsy and flawed if he didn't know she loved him in the first place. He couldn't give up on a life he didn't yet comprehend was on offer, and she couldn't kill anything that had never been born.

She set her jaw, wrung her hands that were now missing that comforting handkerchief, and looked at both men with a seemingly serene smile before rising and walking to the edge of the lounge to call down to the platform. "We should get back to work," she said in her huskier-than-usual alto, then returned to sit between Drake and their newest duckling, shooting each man a sympathetic but short glance.

Slowly, cautiously, solemnly, the various characters made their way up the stairs until they were all seated around the coffee table, trying not to stare too hard at each other or remind any one at the table of anything too painful to discuss.

Cam, Hodgins, Clark and Angela all took their seats, Wyatt sitting off to the side after first filling everyone's coffee mugs and setting forth a generous platter of Proustian madeleines, reminders made food of the end scene of the episode, the one viewers would remember whatever else might occur on the series.

Angela rubbed at her eyes, then spoke softly. "It doesn't really seem right to spend much time this wrap-up joking or chiding about technical details or character inconsistencies when there was so much that was incredibly right, so much that flowed and was flawless and true to canon and our new understanding of characters as this episode was."

Cam nodded. "I agree. I think this time we should focus on a few of the things that occurred aside from the pivotal series and character changing developments. I'll start. I liked the use of the bassist's old friend to explore the victim's personality, and the further exploration of his character through the sympathetic groupie/girlfriend. I also liked the exploration of how we struggle to define and preserve our identities, either as the victim did by trying to change and grow to move beyond the narrow metal box he'd been in, as contrasted with Pinworm's narcissistic need to control his own sense of identity as a ringleader of ghouls, and the drastic lengths he would go to in order to preserve that control. The overall themes of pride, the need for outward recognition in order to form self-esteem, the makeup and masks we present to the world in order to manage the expectations of how we perform-- those aspects of the case importantly underscored what was happening between Brennan and Booth. They both took off layers of makeup to the other even as in that interrogation with Pinworm they agreed about what masks they'd present to the world. We don't need to know precisely what each of them thought or who's in love with whom to at least agree on this much."

The pathologist stopped, considering how much further into the show's metaphorical guts she should delve. As she thought, she glanced down at the literal and metaphorical pot-stirring psychiatrist Wyatt, wondering what he thought of her assessment.

Hodgins nodded, and took up the analysis. "I think that this episode underscored what we've always known about Brennan, but are sometimes allowed to forget. Hoover Dam may be the biggest, most highly technical, most complicated dam in the world, seemingly impenetrable, the river it holds back is even more powerful. When the waters are allowed to spill out to deal with seasonal buildup or to irrigate fields downstream in need of more than the usual flow, the release can knock you over just because it's so unexpected-- but that doesn't mean the water wasn't always there in the first place."

Wyatt nodded almost imperceptibly, but Hodgins caught it from the corner of his eye. Emboldened, he kept speaking. "I agree with Cam about how the case underscored how people's sense of self-esteem can depend not just on how others perceive them, but on how they believe others perceive them. It's a need to control the image so they can also control the reflection, what they get back from others' perceptions and how that affects their own comfort with who they want to be while they try not to think about who they think they are, accurate or not as it may be."

Clark nodded. "I don't disagree. And while I've appeared on fewer episodes than anyone here besides Dr. Wyatt, even I can see that Booth needs Brennan to tell him he's a good person, and Brennan wants Booth to know he's done nothing so wrong as to require him to try to fix everyone and everything but himself. But ... I wanted to talk about a few case-specific things, if that's okay?"

Everyone nodded, Sweets, Brennan and Booth in particular. Encouraged, Clark continued. "It was great that Dr. Brennan re-enacted the mechanism of death with that power cord with me in the Bone Room. I've missed the intellectual recreations of the murders that Dr. Brennan used to conduct out on the platform with the rest of the team, including Dr. Addy. And while I'm certainly no replacement for Dr. Addy, nor should I try to be, there was an element of humor in my interaction with Brennan when she didn't know her own strength that was reminiscent of those prior scenes, when Dr. Addy would complain about being the victim again."

"Brennan doesn't know her own strength," Angela murmured under her breath, multiple meanings in her tone, then observed more incidentally "I was glad that I found the victim's identity so quickly, and that I was able to recreate recognizable images from all those cell-phone images that allowed us to identify Lexi and bring to light the victim's inner identity struggle, the one that inevitably drew the case forward to the conclusion that he was killed because he was trying to change himself."

Clark nodded. "I thought it a bit odd that they would ship the remains back to the U.S. so quickly, and thought that at some other time it might be amusing to see the interplay between the Norwegian Brennan and Booth at the start of the episode, but those are rather niggling details. I really liked the arch yet gentle way Dr. Wyatt had of interacting with Dr. Brennan. He is always very clear and matter of fact with Brennan, even if it's just an arched eyebrow-- witness how quickly and clearly she grasped Dr. Wyatt's statements about scars and family and her understanding that she was being too literal. It tells me again that Wyatt does understand Brennan, well-- he watched her as if he knew what she was going to do throughout the episode, and that it was _Booth_ whose reactions required further study."

Sweets exhaled almost imperceptibly. It was true. In that scene in the diner, in that scene in Agent Booth's kitchen-- Dr. Wyatt and Dr. Brennan had excellent eye contact, and the psychiatrist spoke to the anthropologist in both high, artful metaphor and clear, basic language, all the while making himself understood and her not resisting his meaning. Booth, however, resisted Wyatt's attempts to pierce his behavior-- becoming angry with Brennan when she conceded that they both were damaged to Wyatt, becoming sarcastic and referring to their '_de facto crime-fighting unit_' as the Island of Misfit Toys when Wyatt suggested that they should offer Sweets a formal place among them.

"Wyatt had to have known that if prompted, Brennan would make official what has already happened this season, that Sweets should be explicitly told he is part of the team," Angela added. "That brief look of dismay on her face as she saw Sweets' scars before she returned to the new wounds in front of her when that singer accidentally slit his throat-- although did we resolve who switched the knives? I don't recall that we did, though I'm not sure that it matters-- and set to the side the old wounds she'd just been confronted with. The way she offered the information up for discussion and resolution with Wyatt and Booth because Sweets' pain was present and pressing in her mind said again that her emotional stasis is only limited to her own feelings-- when it comes to anyone else's pain, she's full steam ahead, doing whatever she can to understand and resolve the problem." She paused, then sent boy shrink a sympathetic glance, glad all over again that despite the occasional times she'd made fun of his youth, she'd often listened to him and sought out his advice. She didn't want their new duckling sibling to think the rest of them didn't want him in the nest. It would just take getting used to-- but they'd made room for Booth, they'd make room for Sweets, too.

Clark nodded, wondering if there was room for him in with the rest of the ducks. It was a quirky nest, that was for sure. Brennan had been her oblivious and therefore cute pedantic self at the start of the episode what with the "_I know how to say skull in most languages_" as well as her innocent "_what's black metal_" question, which he wasn't even sure meant she was asking himbecause he was black, but just because she didn't know. And she'd looked lovely in that lilac blouse at the start, Angela's sleeveless grey silky top was incredibly flattering, and Dr. Saroyan's red silky ruffly thing wasn't bad either. No, a man could do far, far worse than to work with the ladies of the Medico-Legal Lab. "I enjoyed how Dr. Sweets always has a quick, sarcastic "_thank you_" on hand every time someone dumped on him-- it shows that though he still wants a home, he's also got some sense of self-possession and isn't afraid to push back as warranted."

Sweets said a sincere "thank you," this time and Clark shot him a grin. "There were a few good funny lines in the episode worth noting," Sweets offered. "First, Agent Booth's crack about death metal sounding like '_a truckload of cymbals crashing into a saw factory_'-- that was priceless. And Dr. Wyatt's timing when he remarked about Booth's tendency to shoot inanimate objects, as well as his recollections about being '_quite pretty_' and having an '_exhibitionist's disdain_ _for underclothing_' back when he was Noddy Comet. Just priceless."

Hodgins snorted. "Yeah, and Booth's secret smarts came out to play a little-- in the diner when he whipped out the technical term "_interossary_," in Brennan's office when he played that he didn't understand the meaning of _cognoscenti_, and then his admission that he'd read Clark's report-- the G-Man's a squint whether he likes it or not."

Angela chuckled. "I thought Booth's crankiness about the alleged disharmony of the metal music at issue was amusing in light of his reference to Black Flag and the Dead Kennedys, two bands who were the subject of much the same criticism back in the day. And ... Clark got some nice squint time with the evidence gleaned from the boots, siting the place where the victim was buried. Big ups on the significance of the lack of the big toe there, you briefcase bomb you."

Clark flushed in pleasured embarrassment. Now that he knew Angela was just teasing, he didn't feel quite so uncomfortable, but he was still uncomfortable being offered the right to say "_King of the Lab_." He wasn't quite sure anyone was ready for that yet.

Cam offered further comment on the episode, trying to stick with constructive criticism only. "While I felt that perhaps the scene was a bit over the top, in the end Brennan was quite effective in convincing the lead singer from Zorch, Murderbreath, to tell what he knew about Mayhem's skeleton. The fact that when it's clearly explained to her what the emotional goal is, she's more than capable of executing things to the desired end played out well here."

Angela laughed-- "It was a hoot, the way she said "_there are no rock concerts in jail_," and that bad-ass way she sat down in that chair, staring at the suspect until he confessed what he knew. And the look on Sweets' face as she did it was priceless."

Brennan spoke then, the first time so far in the wrap-up. "Sweets had some very good moments-- while Dr. Wyatt added his invaluable insight, Sweets was the one in my office and in the end scene who pointed out that the killer would want a totem, and that pride was the basis on which the case hinged. And the two of them were very effective in questioning the victim's friend."

Booth stroked his chin for a moment as their therapist squirmed slightly at Mama Duck's compliment. "Bones is right. And that scene also highlighted this episode's central theme of masks and transitions. Gordon-Gordon was a glam rocker, transformed into an insightful psychiatrist. Sweets was a tortured kid, capable of passing as a hardcore metal fan and melding into his surroundings, and then into a psychologist able to tease out motivation and help bring the case to a close-- both men had makeup and costumes that seemed to contrast paradoxically with who they were as they sat barefaced in their jackets and ties in that conference room, but in the end-- they're the same people underneath it all, aren't they?"

Wyatt nodded infinitesimally again to himself. Such progress from Agent Booth. Perhaps he could turn that analysis inward someday soon, and the sooner the better. He noticed that no one commented that Dr. Sweets' physique was actually better under his shirt in that concert scene than his lanky form might suggest in his everyday clothing-- but perhaps the characters were still dancing around the idea of the young man's scars to look at the rest of the person more carefully. They were scientists, though-- they would eventually step back from the initial area of focus to look at the entire body of evidence, much as Brennan already had, dragging her partner along with her to take the appropriate view.

Just as he was completing the thought, though, Brennan spoke again. "I enjoyed that last scene between Drs. Wyatt and Sweets in the observation room, with Wyatt assuring Sweets that he was doing good work and that his motivations for doing that work were valid and laudable, rather than somehow undermining his credibility or improperly skewing the perspective he brought to his work. I think it was important for Sweets to hear from a colleague that just because he has something in common with some of his patients didn't mean he had nothing to offer."

Wyatt was unsurprised even as flickers of astonishment at Brennan's astuteness still made their way over the faces of her colleagues. He thought back to the part of the scene in the interrogation room where Pinworm presented Brennan with that warrior-babe drawing of her when he called her '_one of us_,' because she was up to her '_elbows in corpses and gore_,' and was '_hardcore_.' The killer had that much right, and not too surprising, since as a musician with a following he had to be able to pick up on some human truths in order to connect with his audience. Pinworm's assertion that neither partner had seen hell until they'd been inside his head, experienced his nightmares-- it was wishful thinking on his part, but the statement nevertheless struck at an essential truth of the episode-- both Brennan and Booth knew all too well what it meant to really dwell in corpses and gore, unlike that narcissistic sociopath prat Pinworm. Brennan, however, was the veritable warrior babe, the leader of the pack behind whom everyone else rallied.

While Booth might have felt he'd allowed Brennan out of the lab, the fact remained thusly-- he was the one who'd gone to pick the anthropologist up at the airport when she made it clear she wouldn't work with him. And while Brennan consulted her partner about finding young Lance a place in their family in Agent Booth's kitchen, her question to him was not her seeking permission so much as it was consultation, seeking confirmation of what she saw as a foregone conclusion-- as made even more evident in the way she dared Booth not to do what was needed to make Sweets part of the family, to stop running away from any expression of vulnerability. She was a warrior babe, and would fight even her partner for the things she thought right-- because she respected him to know that in the end he would do the right thing.

"I wish you weren't going," Angela said, turning to Wyatt to address him directly, and noting internally that each character was doing a lot of reflecting without sharing all their thoughts with the others. "While it's true Sweets was integral to solving the case, things moved along smoothly and amusingly while you were here. You'd make a great series regular."

Wyatt shook his head, demurring. "I know my character is quite popular, and I truly appreciate the fact that fans desire more of the way my character's appearance spurs forward the emotional development of the characters, adding new layers and background and whole new possibilities for the forward direction of the show, but I simply couldn't become a series regular."

The characters all set up a clamor, except for Brennan and Booth. "You guys are quiet," Cam observed. "You'd think you'd want Dr. Wyatt around so we can figure out which one that "_one_" of you is."

Booth and Brennan exchanged one of their inscrutable looks, one that held new depth and meaning since that look they exchanged during the handkerchief scene. They still weren't quite in complete synchrony, but they were closer now than they had been. Brennan shook her head. "I don't think so. While Dr. Wyatt's appearance at this point in the season was critical, and necessary in some viewers' minds to save this season from often disturbing inconsistencies and mis-characterization of the shows' central premises, there are two things we should keep in mind. Brevity is the soul of wit," she began.

Booth chimed in, completing her sentence. "And familiarity breeds contempt. Gordon-Gordon's appearance shook up the feelings of familiarity viewers felt they'd found with the characters, shook up the familiarity the characters all thought they had with each other, and set us all off on a new path."

Brennan took the reins back from the partner. "Dr. Wyatt is a _deus ex machina_, a literary device, an opportunity for us to re-examine the things we thought we all knew. He's the joker, the trickster, the mercurial spirit who appears like a lightning bolt and illuminates corners we didn't know even existed. But we have to explore those corners ourselves, because the story becomes boring when there's an omnipotent narrator. There are things the characters must learn on their own-- after all, part of the joy of the story is not quite being sure how the last chapter will play out."

Wyatt leaned back in his chair and began clapping slowly. "Bravo, my dears, bravo. I couldn't have said it better myself. In fact, I would have most likely made some obscure literary metaphor that would cause readers to have to think deeply about whether truth is stranger than fiction, or whether fiction is a mirror for the things we would like to see in ourselves, or whether instead fiction allows us to confront truths we cannot accept via mere self-reflection."

"Metaphor isn't all bad," Brennan further reflected. "It shouldn't be easy all the time, we can't always have things spelled out for us in plain language, though sometimes it's necessary-- we don't learn except by our experiences. If we experience nothing, aren't made to think more deeply about what we've been through, then we make no journey and there's no reward at the end."

Booth nodded and stood, holding out his hand to his partner. "Let's just hope there's a real reward at the end of the season."

Wyatt smiled as the partners walked down the stairs together, Booth's hand at Brennan's back. He and the other characters all craned their heads to watch the two partners as they hit the ground floor and stopped to face each other as Booth said something to Brennan and Brennan said something inaudible to him in return. Each suppressed an audible sigh when Brennan patted the breast of Booth's suit jacket again, then looked up at him and inclined her head toward the exit. After they gazed at each other one moment longer, Booth broke his partner's gaze and followed her hesitantly out of the lab, his hand on her back more tentative and his pace behind Brennan lagging as he appeared to re-examine his partner from behind, rather than shove her along as he sometimes appeared to in the past. Each character had their own interpretation of the moment, and that was fine, really. They could all agree on one thing. Whatever just happened, it was important.

With subdued exchanges of goodbyes and wishes of good luck to the departing psychiatrist, the characters all headed off to their homes, offices and significant others, Sweets leaving last.

"Are you going to tell me if my conclusion was right?" Sweets asked, knowing the answer would be no but asking regardless.

Wyatt chuckled. "My dear boy, what's the fun in that? Why on earth would you want to skip ahead to the ending?"

Sweets shook his head, but shook the older man's hand and departed, looking forward as he left to the next episode when he could work again with his fellow Misfit Toys.

As Wyatt (though he rather liked the name Gordon-Gordon, perhaps he would use it when he got his own cooking show, chefs were the new rockstars, after all) watched the partners finally reach the lab's exit, he reflected on other wise observations of the poet John Milton, whose sayings applied no matter which way the viewers came down on who the "_one_" was in the partnership. Wyatt knew that though Booth might still deny the truth of it, Brennan understood that the world came first from darkness, as Milton observed-- Genesis' "_Let there be light_" restated-- "_Loneliness is the first thing which God's eye named, not good_." The fact of loneliness prompted good actions-- whether or not either character was willing to admit it aloud.

Wyatt hoped, too, that both Brennan and Booth would take counsel from the blind poet's other wise declarations-- that while "_Long is the way/ And hard, that out of hell leads up to light_," so soon as both partners took counsel and caution, they might find that "_For I no sooner in my heart divin'd My heart, which by a secret harmony Still moves with thine, joined in connection sweet_," heaven might emerge from the awe-full possibilities contained in what might well be Milton's best known quotation. "_The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a Heav'n of Hell, a Hell of Heav'n_."

Like each character and viewer, Wyatt just hoped their minds made a mutual Heav'n, and soon.


	29. The Double Death of the Dearly Departed

_**A/N: **_

_**I'm sorry—if you loved this episode, you probably shouldn't read this. I hated it, and thought it was not just a farce but a travesty. It was so bad that I had to have the denizens of Wong-Fu's handle the wrap-up while I let the regular characters go drown their miseries in the Sea Chimp's Champagne Pool.**_

* * *

**The Double Death of the Dearly Departed**

(As the lights come up, we pass through a door in an ill-lit Hollywood backlot into a bar set with a vaguely Asian-esque decor. Presiding, a bartender with the cure for all things that ail us. We hope.)

"_The Trouble with Harry_."

"No. _Weekend at Bernie's_."

The irregular and written-off characters were all seated inside Wong Fu's, arguing animatedly over what to call the coffin in which they would bury the Dumb Dumb Dumb Dumb (how's that for four D's?) "The Double Death of the Dearly Departed."

"I still say _The Trouble with Harry_. Yes, the dead corpse thing was unfortunate," Max said as he sipped at his scotch, "but the lighting and makeup and costumes in the episode were far more akin to a Hitchcock film than some bad 80s comedy about two loser guys carting their dead boss around."

"Right. Because a guy in the habit of making dead bodies, carting them around, and then crucifying them and setting them up on stakes to burn on top of hotels is in a position to be discriminating." Sully couldn't help the snarky remark. He supposed Booth's Code of the West was in some way right, anyone who really loved Tempe wouldn't hesitate to do whatever it took to protect the blue-eyed, beautiful, brilliant anthropologist, but it still bothered him that Max hung around Sid's and offered comment on episodes like he had any right to remark on his daughter's life. At least Sully'd been on several episodes in a row, and not just completely intermittently when his actor wasn't in court or in prison or being divorced. To quench his peevishness, Sully had another sip of his mai-tai. He was still fighting off scurvy from his seemingly endless world-sailing trip.

"I must agree with young Timothy, here," Gordon-Gordon chimed in, swirling the Chateau-Neuf-de-Pape in his glass and inhaling deeply before sipping. It was a nice little wine, and might go well with his cassoulet-- Sid had promised to let him try out some specials at lunchtime for Sid's irregular regulars. "This week's episode showed no respect for the dead, was far too farcical, and reduced a wake full of academics, intellectuals and professionals to blithering fools, too busy gold-digging and fornicating to note the absconding, examination, and return of the person whose passing they were supposed to be there to observe." Sipping deeply, the psychiatrist looked off into space. "Although Cleopatra Esquire was rather lovely."

"You got that right, Gordo my man," smiled Sid, pouring out a Mountain Dew for the newest arrival to the irregulars' wrap up. "What do you think, Zach-o, my man?"

Zach swirled his Dew on the rocks, watching the neon liquid in his glass before speaking. "As Dr. Wyatt and Agent Sullivan referenced, I thought the handling of the body was utterly out of keeping with the respectful tone the WTF writers used to maintain with regard to the remains. Isn't the whole point of Dr. Brennan's going out in the field that she can ensure the proper handling of her remains so that they are shown the dignity she feels they deserve? Stuffing the body into the back of a brand named motor vehicle because there isn't room in the other brand named motor vehicle is hardly appropriate, and as different, thematically, as the physical cargo space difference between a Matrix and a Sequoia."

"That's what I'm talking about!" Competent and Perky Blonde Agent Perotta said from her end of the bar, raising her Cosmo in the air. "Woman's a ball-buster, sure, but she's all about the integrity of the justice process and honoring the sanctity of life. I can't believe she wouldn't have gone off to see that judge in his chambers, rather than engage in theft of a dead body. Why the hell would she put up with such a grievous insult? I mean, she unleashed whoopass on a knight and she's not going to go after some dumbass judge with that camera phone photo? I mean, where the hell was Caroline? It's all a WTF writer issue again. Someone smoking serious hash thought it would be funny to make them have to solve a murder within a few hours. And it provides Booth an excuse to yet again dump verbally on Brennan, though he said he's only repeating the judge's words." Lovely Brunette Agent Pritchard clinked her classic gin martini (in a coupe, please, none of these cocktail glasses) against Perotta's pink-tinged libation.

"You got that right, Cher," said sassy prosecutor Caroline Julian, holding down Sid's center booth and raising her Mint Julep.

Sam Cullen, sitting across from her, raised his neat scotch and clinked glasses. "We never had so much procedural hinky stuff when I was still on the show." Desk Jockey Charlie and Evidence Tech Marcus Geier nodded, then drank from their microbrews silently.

"Hell, even I would have said '_not that I think that, Tempe_,'" muttered Jared, nursing his Diet Coke with lime. He was trying to go straight, there was no telling what the end of the season might have in store for him, and he was hoping to score some Serious, Meaningful time with his brother that might earn his actor some casting cred on other shows. "But _nooooo_, the WTF writers have Seeley being all nasty to her with that '_sad face_' shit and the '_you just feel bad because you don't know him_' spiel."

The back booth holding Brennan's other ex-boyfriends was somewhat murky, much like their pasts, but a distinct muttering escaped, led most vocally by Gay Jason and Deep Sea Welder Mark. "We thought we had real competition, but maybe we should go back and try to make up," Jason said, and Mark nodded. "Anything's game at this point, guys. At least we're not afraid to treat Tempe like a woman." There was a chorus of muttered agreement and a "hear, hear" from the ghost of Ian Wexler, who technically counted because Brennan turned him down for Booth.

Just then, the Sea Chimps walked in, looking stressed. Sid took one look at the colorful winged brine shrimp and ducked under the bar, coming up with bottles of Sofia champagne and long bendy straws for each chimp. "Yo, Chimps," he said solemnly, popping the corks and passing out bubbly to each of the meta-fictional characters. "Aren't you guys still supposed to be helping with the official wrap up over at the lab?"

Tinky-Winky drank the whole of his bottle in one pull, the liquid guttering at the end of his straw. "No," he burped sadly. "The regular characters were so damned depressed by this episode that they all came down to the champagne pool and started drinking before the credits were even done rolling. They were so busy wallowing in misery that we thought we'd better leave them to it and come over here."

"Damn," said Sid, shaking his head. "They didn't drink all that Cristal I sent over last week, did they?"

Po swiped a tear from her eye. "Sweets made a beeline for my stash along with Clark and the interns! And Brennan and Booth headed right for La-La's Grande Dame!"

Dipsy sniffled raggedly. "Cam drank my Moet et Chandon, and Hodgins and Angela went straight for the Dom Perignon." The Sea Chimps were so upset that their chorus of "_Hodgins!_" was off-key and totally ragged. Totally.

"I just don't know, kids," Sid sadly, handing out his special Sid's Chex Mix for the characters to munch on. "It's just ... I hardly know what to say. It makes me sound like my grandma, God rest her soul, but things just aren't like they used to be."

Everyone nodded, agreeing.

"I don't see why the undertaker stabbed the body seven times," Zack said. "Wouldn't you think he would call for help after it kept reacting once he'd stabbed it once?"

Sid nodded. "And I thought Cam's comment about the bodies at the lab ill-timed."

Perotta frowned. "Booth's taking the twenty from Hank Reilly's jacket pocket was boorish, even if he did see Dr. Hodgins there."

Sully chimed in. "Why was Angela going off like a waterworks at the start, and then she was all laughing it up at the graveside when Brennan's trying to make everyone drink the tea?"

Wyatt stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Perhaps I was so awash in misery at how bad this episode was to miss exactly how the mother adulterated the tea so that the whole batch was suspect and she wouldn't want everyone to drink it. Did she grind it up and mix it in with the leaves?"

Sam Cullen took a stiff swig of scotch. "That whole "_hang on to the body while we interrogate the sushi vendor so we have an excuse to talk to Cleopatra Esquire and make two deaths for one body possible_ _because of the strange things about fish enzymes_" thing was extraneous in the extreme. And don't even get me started on Booth's singing "Swing Low Sweet Chariot" thing as a way to distract from the fact that Doctors Brennan and Hodgins were playing Dr. Bunsen Honeydew and Beaker in the kitchen there with the tea leaves."

"Dr. Bunsen Honeydew? I don't know what that means," Max murmured to Zack. Zack looked at his mentor's father strangely, then swirled his Mountain Dew in his glass.

"Some things apparently run in the family," Sully muttered to Sid, who snickered in response.

"Here's what bothered me, Chers," Caroline said. "After _Mayhem_, the first real shipper's episode since _Con Man,_ we have this episode, and Booth's being caustic and mean to Brennan and telling her she doesn't know how to behave at a wake and is rude to people? It's proof the continuity gods have forsaken us. I mean, last week it's all _two days in a car_ and _I nearly committed suicide_ and this week it's all _you don't know how to behave at a wake_ and _make sure I'm dead before you bury me_? WTF?"

In the corner, the abject Sea Chimps slurped more champagne, worked on nibbles of spam set out on toothpicks, and brainstormed over a new series of verses for "WTF Writers."

"The womens' outfits were nice," Perotta noted, trying to be perky. "Brennan's makeup was lovely-- though I didn't get why she wore a sleeveless dress under such a heavy wool coat. And Cam wore long sleeves, and yet Angela had some skimpy short-sleeved silky blouse on. But in general, the makeup and costumes for the women were great. The wife was well done, right down to the slip in the bathroom while she was bonking the undertaker, and the mother was elegant. Got to say, she didn't really look like she was dying."

Everyone nodded. "Can someone explain to me how Dr. Brennan noticed the rib breakage if she was just replacing a rose?" Zack asked. "It just isn't her character to go fondling a body. Unless they were sticking right out, which by my understanding they weren't. Maybe they were. I could only watch it once."

There were murmurs around the bar. They all could only watch it once, and were sure that there were things that they'd missed, perhaps redeeming things, but the overall episode had been so painful for them (at least as this author wrote them) that it was really hard to remember.

"Well, at least Seeley got to show he knows how to use a laptop and did that video link thing with the lab," Jared noted, trying to give his brother some credit.

People nodded before Sid grumbled. "Yeah. Further proof Booth's been playing the dumb card a little too hard this season. And what's up with that '_I can be devastatingly charming when you're not around_,' thing?"

"Try incredibly smarmy," Perotta groused, motioning Sid for another Cosmo.

"Dr. Brennan's voice as she sang '_Amazing Grace_' was lovely," Evidence Tech Agent Marcus Geier said. "I almost expected someone to ask her why she knew it, but I'm glad the WTF writers let that crack on her atheism pass."

"That poor clueless brother," Charlie said, shaking his head and quaffing his beer. "I felt so bad for him. At least he was too clueless to realize he was being interrogated-- unlike the head of the Caribbean Studies Department, who rightly called Brennan and Booth for being bizarre and macabre and otherwise inappropriate at a wake."

"At least Cam mentioned Michelle a few times," Zack stated, then furrowed his brow. "Although it would have been easy enough to re-shoot a few scenes to address some of the more obvious discontinuiterization issues. And what was up with Dr. Brennan being all offensive about voodoo? Did the writers forget about her knowledge in _Man in the Morgue_?"

Everyone nodded, then took a swig of their drink. "If that's the case, then it's the worst kind of easy out," Wyatt grumbled, composing menus almost idly on the back of some of Sid's napkins. He needed to do something to distract his mind now that his character would not likely reappear any time soon.

"What did we think about Brennan not knowing the victim?" Perotta asked.

"It made no sense," Michael Stires added. "In S1, she was always sending stuff off to various (off-screen) named department heads for consults, and in _Intern in the Incinerator_ she knew who all the relevant institutional players, at least the department heads were. Tempe's an academic as well as a scientist. She knows how the name game is played among people who affect her getting her work done. She's focused, but not so focused that she wouldn't pay attention to details whose knowledge might assist her in achieving her ends."

Everyone looked thoughtful and nodded. Stires was a manipulative scumbag, yes, but he and Brennan were involved for a number of years. If anyone would know Brennan's capacity to function in professional circles, it would be him. Dr. Goodman, who had thus far been silent but lent an air of authority to the entire proceeding, nodded in agreement. "I concur with Dr. Stires. Simply because Temperance preferred not to play department politics didn't mean she was ignorant of them."

Everyone was into their second round of drinks by this point and the Sea Chimps were atonally muttering words that sounded like "sucks" and "plotzed" and "abused" without really getting too far on homonyms or new harmonies to which to put their choral critique. A disagreeable silence fell over the bar.

A firm knock and what sounded like someone saying "Ayyyyy", both as loud and jolting as Joshua's trumpet blare at the walls of Jericho shook the air inside the bar.

Everyone stilled, looking at one another in wide-eyed alarm. Stires got up slowly and went to the back door, stepping out into the alley and shutting the door behind him. The characters still inside Wong Fu's waited-- uncertainly, nervously, with nail-biting anxiety, much like viewers worried about the overall quality of the show-- until Brennan's old lover returned, shutting the door firmly behind him.

"Who was it," Sid asked, though he thought he already knew. (He was Sid. It was his job to just know stuff.)

Stires shook his head, looking stern. "Guy on a motorcycle wearing a white helmet and a life vest, leading a trailer full of water-skiing equipment."

A chill filled the air as the Sea Chimps whimpered and Tinky-Winky gathered the three smaller chimps into his arms.

Stires nodded solemnly. "I sent him over to the ABC lot, but that'll only work for so long."

Caroline gathered papers and stuffed them into her briefcase, then quaffed the rest of her julep. "Peyton!" she barked. "You finish your Cosmo. Sam, you stop sippin' your scotch. Charlie, you and Marcus quit nursin' your microbrews. As irregular characters playing official roles in the show, we've got official channels to go through to try to get this show back on track."

"What about me?" Sully asked, twirling his paper umbrella unhappily on the bar top before him.

Caroline shook her head. "I know, Tim. But you're retired, and I have a special assignment for you. You're young, clever and strong, and yet you still have some moral code, which makes the job I have in mind for you just perfect."

"What's that?" the floppy-haired ex-agent inquired.

"You, cher," the no-nonsense prosecutrix declared, "are going to head up the Black Tempe Brigade." Motioning to the FBI adjuncts she'd just mustered, Caroline continued. "If we fail to get this show back on the rails through the regular channels, then you, with your seconds Jared and Max, will do whatever it takes to ensure that this season doesn't go up in flames. You should feel free to use all Brennan's ex-boyfriends in whatever ways you see fit. They are expendable."

Max began to protest Sully's appointment as the head of the Black Tempe Brigade. "She's my daughter," he said, only to be dope-slapped in the back of the head by every former male love interest in the bar.

"Yes! And because of you she can't believe in true love, because your actions don't really represent the true love of a parent. Were you not watching Mayhem last week? Did you honestly think you loved your daughter so much that two days in the trunk of a car was an acceptable alternative?"

Sully was in Max's face, his preppy features contorted with rage and his floppy hair tangled with sweat. "This thing, this thing with Brennan and Booth. This is true love. Do you think this comes along every day? There is _no way_ I am letting you head up this team."

Every ex-boyfriend agreed. Tempe's commitment issues were all Max's fault. They wanted this UST thing resolved, so Booth and Brennan could get on with calling each other Seeley and Temperance, with an occasional "Oh, Booth!" or "Oh, Bones!" in bed-- because really, after four years of Bones and Booth, it wasn't like they were going to switch to each other's first names all the time.

Sid looked at Caroline, then selected his crew. "Zack, Gordo-Gordo, Dr. Goodman, you're all with me. Logistics, Quartermasters', and Intel."

Caroline nodded, settling her briefcase on her shoulder. "I'll leave you four geniuses to get yourselves settled."

Zack smiled. "Dr. Wyatt and Sid always comprehend the emotional and physical needs of their patrons, Dr. Goodman is a master of political protocol and can soothe and distract people with his deep African-American tones, and I am capable of creating and obtaining equipment that will allow us to enter and exit secure facilities undetected."

Jared narrowed his eyes. "That's right-- you did that library card thing. You and me, kid, we'll catch up later." Jared had done a little more than Spring Cleaning and downloaded it all onto a zip drive before he was court-martialed or discharged or whatever happened to him during the discontinuerous lag between his character's appearances on episodes. He and Zack could be a formidable team.

"What about us?" asked the dispirited brine shrimp, led by Tinky-Winky. Po slurped down the last of her bottle then, hiccupping slightly.

Sid and Caroline shared an unspoken thought before Caroline turned a benevolent smile on the littlest Chimp.

"It's very clear," she said softly. "You four have the most important job of all. You have to follow our heroes wherever they go and croon, hum, sing, serenade, harmonize, melodize, and otherwise fill the air tunefully with every happy love song known to man and Chimp. Start with _In Your Eyes_, then move on to _Ain't No Mountain High Enough_. We are not calling the whole thing off, their love is here to stay, ("_forever and a day_," harmonized Charlie and Geier), because what a difference a new Bonesday could make, and even the WTF writers may be ready for a thing called love. But it won't happen if you don't amp up the love quotient around here."

Sid nodded-- "While show fans may be with our heroes come rain or come shine, the advertisers may have cold, cold hearts, and then all the trouble Brennan's gone to lately so she ain't misbehavin' will be for naught, because as fan fiction writers on this site have already written, even Brennan may get tired of her tears and then she'll be gone, daddy, gone."

Caroline crossed her arms. "So ... you Chimps get to work. I want the sun rising backward, the moon made of cheese, the cherry trees on the Mall in permanent bloom, and everyone in this bar walking three inches off of the ground."

"In other words," Sid said, "you go get our Booth/Brennan off-episode mojo going again. Maybe you can lift things enough that the next episode will be more _Rear Window_ than _The Trouble with Harry_."

"_When Harry Met Sally_ rather than _Weekend at Bernie's_," Gordon-Gordon corrected. "It is more of a comedy than a drama."

"Drama," said Sid. "With comedic elements."

"Comedy," retorted Gordon-Gordon. "With recognition of life's serious moments."

"Enough!" shouted Caroline Julian. "Whatever you want to call it, what it was this last episode sure as hell wasn't it. We've got to get to work, not bicker over meaningless categories. We should just be focusing on episode continuity, meaningful character arcs, procedural and scientific consistency, good writing and dialogue, and lots and lots of eyesex."

Everyone in the bar paused to recall the eyesex moment in Mayhem and swooned, then quadruple-swooned for good measure. Because damn, Booth and Brennan were both all glittery-eyed, and that Handkerchief Moment? OMG, totally metaphor of the season.

Swooning completed, Caroline swept her FBI troop out before her, leaving the fresh air of prosecutorial determination behind her. Team Tempe gathered in the back shadows of the bar, letting the dust and gloom of past discontinuous episodes mask their planning. The Sea Chimps tested their barbershop harmonies, found they had enough vim to start off with something short and sweet like "_Come Fly With Me_" as they fluttered on their love-created wings out of the bar.

Zack raised his Dew on the Rocks to toast with Sid, Gordo-Gordo and Goodman. "Here's to keeping the series serious enough that finding out which one of the partners Dr. Wyatt was talking about will be worth it."

"Hear, hear," said Gordo-Gordo.

"Excellent, Dr. Addy," said Goodman in a stenorian tone.

"Too true," said Sid inscrutably. (Sid does everything inscrutably. He's the frickin' Mona Lisa of bartenders.)

The four suppliers and schemers drank companionably for long moments, but eventually Gordo-Gordo could no longer ignore the feel of his compatriots' eyes flickering over him.

"No," he said in his clipped British voice. "I am not going to say whom. We should merely expend our best efforts to lead the show back to credible, dignified storylines with occasional humor and compelling yet not melodramatic character building."

"Took the words right out of my mouth, Dr. Wyatt," said blc's voice from above.

"Or you put them right into mine, my very dear author," the shrink-cum-chef and pot-stirrer-deluxe replied, eyes twinkling.

"Clever, Monty, very clever," blc replied, echoing Angela's quip from her last scene with Wyatt.

Wyatt smiled to himself. The show wasn't dead yet. It was just resting.


End file.
